


15 Things to Do in NYC If You've Been Stuck in an Ice Berg for 70 Years

by gogglor



Series: The Buzzfeed Listiverse [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Deaf Clint Barton, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Found Family, God these tags make it all sound super sappy but it's also really funny I promise, Healing from trauma, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 39,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gogglor/pseuds/gogglor
Summary: Tony and Steve can't stand each other, but they agree for the sake of the team and the people that rely on them that they have to figure out a way to get along. So they come up with a plan to spend time together, in the form of a Buzzfeed listicle of things to do in New York City.Because if you go to enough museums with the guy you can't stand, you should *eventually* stop hating him, right?***Come for the slow burn, stay for everyone's opinions on Cats the musical and a story about teenage Tony stealing an ice cream truck in an attempt to get laid.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: The Buzzfeed Listiverse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081472
Comments: 106
Kudos: 445





	1. 8 NYC Pizza Places Where You Might Spot an Avenger

Steve didn’t know why no one ever believed him when he told them he mostly liked living in the future.

Not all the time, of course. Sometimes he desperately missed darkness at nightfall and milk carts and a Times Square that wasn’t a tourist theme park from hell. But Steve found that moving to the future was a lot like any of the hundred other moves from city to city he’d done with the USO, and then between places in Europe. There were new customs and things to do in each place, and some of them were good, some of them were bad, some of them were just different. And most of the different things about the future were pretty great: civil rights, vaccines, sushi - it didn’t feel like home, but it was, for the most part, a big improvement over the places Steve had hung his hat (or his cowl) over the course of his life.

Of course there were some things Steve really didn’t like, but there were always things about where he’d been that he didn’t like. Chicago’s river had stunk to high heaven. Everybody smoked too much in France. And the future had too much bullshit on the internet.

“I must’ve drawn five million sketches before I dropped out of art school,” said Steve as he was shaking his head, “and all they care about are the nudes.”

Steve had made the mistake that afternoon of asking what a listicle was, and now everyone was in the common room of Avengers tower watching a screen hooked up to Tony’s tablet as they went through some website called Buzzfeed and every stupid “list-article” they’d ever made about the Avengers. So far they’d been through, “Every Iron Man Suit Ranked from Worst to Best” (which Tony insisted was objectively wrong), “9 Things You Didn’t Know About Hawkeye - Number 4 Will Shock You)” (number 4 did not shock them, although “He’s unbelievably good at Mario Kart” was also their lived reality every time someone pulled out the video games), and “6 People We Think Could Lift Mjolnir” (“This Mr. Rogers sounds like a great man. Any relation to you, Steve?”). Right now they were on “10 Things You Didn’t Know About Captain America (You Won’t Believe Number 8!),” and apparently an art student drawing nude models in art school was sufficiently salacious to be the unbelievable number 8.

“ _ Were _ there naked people back in the 40’s? I just assumed back then everyone was born with 8 layers on,” said Tony.

Ubiquitous sarcasm was another development of the 21st century that Steve wasn’t fond of. Although that might be because its biggest practitioner was a coworker with a unique talent for getting under Steve’s skin.

Steve rolled his eyes and retorted, “Yeah, when they took my shirt off to apply the serum, it was the first time any of the scientists or doctors had ever seen a human torso.” He was getting better at giving as good as he got, mostly because an utterly juvenile part of him refused to let Tony win.

“Ooh, the serum just got so much more kinky,” said Tony lasciviously, “Jarvis, make a note to check if there’s porn of that later.”

Steve felt his face get hot, which was how most of his attempts at matching Tony’s sarcasm went. You’d think by now he’d know better, but Steve never did know when to back away from a fight. 

“Wow, crude  _ and _ insulting. Glad to see you’re turning over a new leaf, Tony,” said Steve before he could stop himself.

“Lots of leaves around since you stuck all the sticks up your ass,” said Tony.

“Give it a rest, you two,” said Nat, “They haven’t mentioned that Bucky was hot yet and I want to see what picture they use for number 9.”

Sure enough, number 9 was, “His childhood best friend was HOTTT,” and Steve felt the residual anger at Tony disappear into a mix of more embarrassment, but also pride. Even in this century, Bucky was still chasing skirts. God he missed that bastard.

“And ten’ll just be, ‘he’s gorgeous and we love him,’” said Clint (it was), “C’mon, I want to see if there’s any on Tasha.”

“The day anyone gets enough information about me to make a Buzzfeed article is the day I turn in my spy card,” said Natasha.

“Wait, what’s that one?” said Steve.

They’d reached the bottom of the list where the other suggested articles were. Steve pointed to the second one down, which Tony promptly opened.

15 THINGS TO DO IN NYC IF YOU’VE BEEN STUCK IN AN ICEBERG FOR 70 YEARS

  1. A lot’s changed in New York! Take in the new view at the top of Avengers tower.
  2. Get dim sum with your super-friends in Chinatown on Lunar New Year.
  3. Enjoy Pride! Take your pick of any of the hundreds of drag shows, concerts, socials, or other events happening in the city, but make sure you don’t miss the parade!
  4. While the Dodgers have moved away, we recommend catching them when they’re in town at Citifield (or the new Yankee stadium, if you can stomach the Yankees).
  5. Buy a book from the Strand, then read it as you ride the subway solo from the top of the Bronx all the way to Coney Island.
  6. Walk the High Line with a friend on a sunny day.
  7. Get in line early or bug your billionaire friend for tickets to Shakespeare in the Park.
  8. Get in touch with your Bohemian side and attend a poetry slam at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe.
  9. Go to the Halloween Parade dressed as any Avenger but Captain America.
  10. Go see a new Broadway show. We recommend _Cats_!
  11. Check out the new museums. The Cloisters is lovely when the weather’s nice, and when it’s not, the Guggenheim is a great choice. Bring a sketch pad!
  12. Book a noraebang in Korea-town with the Avengers. We bet Thor’ll love karaoke!
  13. Try some 21st century confections! We recommend the cronut, the rainbow bagel, frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity, the pumpkin scone from Alice’s Teacup, and anything at all from Momofuku Milk Bar.
  14. Take a friend to the New York Aquarium in Coney Island and go speak with the fishes!
  15. Kiss someone you love at midnight on New Years Eve in Times Square



“You know, except for the last one because God knows why anyone voluntarily subjects themself to Times Square, especially on New Years Eve... that’s actually not a bad list,” said Bruce.

“Any list of recommendations of things to do in New York City without mentioning where to get the best pizza is a bad list,” said Tony.

“Fair point. But we’ve already all been to DiFara’s,” said Bruce.

“That is L&B’s erasure and I for one will not  _ stand _ for it,” said Clint.

Everyone else immediately started a robust debate over where to get the best pizza in New York (even Thor, who’d become surprisingly knowledgeable and opinionated on the subject since he’d begun spending more time at Avengers tower), but Steve was re-reading the list on the screen. And long after they’d moved on to “8 Pictures of Bruce Banner’s Perfect Dad Bod” (“Is that a  _ dragonfly tramp stamp? _ ” “I had that removed years ago! Where did they find these pictures?”), Steve was still thinking about it. And so it really wasn’t a surprise to him when, the next day, without really planning on it, he found himself at the top of Avengers tower, taking in the view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce wrote his first dissertation on dragonfly habitats and got the tattoo when he was out celebrating his successful thesis defense. The placement issue did not occur to him because he was very, very drunk at the time.
> 
> NYC is full of wonderful pizza places. That being said, Clint is correct - L&B's makes the best pizza in the five boroughs. Objectively.


	2. 5 Words of Wisdom from Girl-Boss Pepper Potts

Tony Stark’s mouth had a filter, alright?

In fact, he didn’t just have a filter. Everything Tony said went through a whole damn chemistry set - a filter, a centrifuge, a decanter, _and_ a distiller. Tony’s mental chemistry set was the only thing that kept the 8 constantly running tracks of his brain from overwhelming and pissing off everyone around him. He’d spent his life tweaking and rearranging and perfecting it just like he did everything else he ever put effort into. The only reason why anyone said Tony “didn’t have a filter” was because they never got to see the sheer amount Tony _didn’t_ say.

All that being said (actually, _not_ being said - see?), Tony will admit his system had a few weak spots. Certain people and situations had a way of getting words past some of his filters before they got to his mouth - particularly the parts designed not to tick people off.

Stupid people trying to talk over smart people.

Bigots.

And, for whatever reason, Steve fucking Rogers.

This last fact was endlessly distressing to Tony because while he didn’t give a damn what stupid people and bigots thought, Tony had to admit that Steve was neither, and so when Tony pissed him off he was hurting someone who didn’t deserve it. What’s worse, every one of Tony’s usual tricks for schmoozing people he’d pissed off by mistake all just seemed to piss Steve off even more. Which, in turn, pissed Tony off, and his entire verbal filter went straight out the window when he was angry.

So that night, when Tony crashed on the couch in his lab at 4 AM wondering how the hell he’d managed yet again to start a fight with Steve, Tony set about adding that conversation to every other one he’d ever had with Steve to try and find something he could use to fix this. Because if there was one thing Tony was constitutionally incapable of, it was leaving things un-fixed.

He’d tried throwing money at the problem after a particularly vicious fight, but the mint condition Jackie Robinson rookie card just got slid right back under Tony’s door with the sticky note saying “You can’t buy your way out of saying sorry, Tony.” He’d tried compliments, which had confused everyone, most of all Steve, who thought Tony was taking the piss. He’d even tried flirting, which made Steve turn scarlet and yell at Tony for being lewd and unprofessional, which was a fair cop but come on, Steve, could you stop being such a damned stick in the mud for _three sec--_

“AAAaaaaggghhh!” Tony screamed into the pillow with frustration. Because Steve wasn’t a stick in the mud either! Steve was more than capable of shooting the shit with literally everyone else. Whatever was wrong, it wasn’t with Steve. It was with Tony. Because of fucking course it was. They would remain forever stuck on that horrible, horrible first meeting in the helicarrier, when Tony didn’t know shit about Steve except he was Howard’s golden boy, which meant Tony had to prove that he wasn’t. And it didn’t matter that since then, Tony had realized Howard may have been full of shit about a lot of things, but he wasn’t about Steve. The damage was done. Steve would never, ever look at Tony and see anything but the little shit son of his wartime bff. The _prick_.

“Jarvis, call Pepper,” said Tony through the pillow.

A moment later a tired-sounding Pepper said, “Tony, whatever it is, it can wait till morning.”

“ _You_ didn’t always like me, Pep,” said Tony.

“I can’t hear you through the pillow Tony,” said Pepper.

Tony rolled his eyes, then put the pillow back behind his head and turned to face the wall where Pepper’s face was being projected. She was clearly still in bed.

“Why are you in bed? You’re in California - I remembered the time difference,” said Tony.

“It’s 1 AM here, Tony, and I know that’s practically lunch time for you but some of us are CEO’s who take breakfast meetings with investors and--”

“I’m sorry,” said Tony.

Pepper stopped. “Wow,” she said, “You must’ve really messed up if you’re getting to the apology this early.”

“No more than usual,” said Tony, “I just-- I’ve got nothing, Pep. I’ve tried everything I can think of. Steve and I are going to hate each other until we die.”

“You don’t hate Steve, and Steve doesn’t hate you,” said Pepper, in that tone of patient exasperation only she could make sound not-insulting, “you’re just… two really, _really_ strong personalities that got off to a bad start.”

“But so did we, right?” said Tony, “You couldn’t stand me when we met. And we ended up dating for a while, for Christ’s sake.”

“Yes, Tony,” said Pepper, “and this is the point in this recurring conversation where I point out that you and I _had_ to figure out how to get along, because we were working so closely together. And without that time spent together, I’d probably still hate your guts. Now if you could just spend some time with Steve --”

“I’m trying, Pep, but he’s such an asshole sometimes. And that turns me into an asshole, and then we get sucked into the asshole vortex, and everything ends up worse than where we started.”

Pepper sighed, “We have now reached the point in this recurring conversation where I ask you to say all of these things to _Steve_ instead of me _._ ”

“And now I say, ‘Every time I try we end up fighting again.’”

“You want to fill in my lines for the rest of this conversation?”

“‘Maybe I should hire him,’ ‘Don’t hire him, he’ll find that patronizing,’ ‘Maybe I should buy the Dodgers and move them back to Brooklyn,’ ‘If he hated the baseball card, he’s really going to hate that,’” recited Tony.

“And now we’re at the end! Great! Good night, Tony,” said Pepper.

“Was Howard right, Pepper?” asked Tony quietly.

Pepper immediately sat up in bed, and stared intently through the camera on her phone directly at Tony.

“Howard Stark was a prick with an inferiority complex who couldn’t accept he was less brilliant than his son and less good than Steve Rogers, and he took it out on the one of you that wasn’t buried in the arctic,” said Pepper, and there was _fire_ in her voice. “He wasn’t right about _anything_ , least of all who you are and what you’re capable of, Tony.”

“Except that Captain America would hate my guts,” said Tony, dully.

“Alright that does it,” said Pepper throwing off the covers, “I’m talking to Steve.”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” said Tony in a panic.

“If you’re failing hard enough for Howard fucking Stark to rear his ugly head in your psyche, we have officially reached the point where the problem requires outside help,” said Pepper matter-of-factly, “Now let me hang up so I can call the jet.”

“Jarvis, do not let her call the jet,” said Tony.

“Belay that, Jarvis,” said Pepper.

A faint hum started coming from the ceiling, as Jarvis tried to determine whether the CEO that technically owned him or his maker had higher authority here.

“Pepper, wait-- don’t call the jet. Because... I know how to fix this,” lied Tony.

Pepper fixed Tony with a curious look, then said, “Jarvis forget what I said - really Tony? You have an idea?”

“Yep. Yeah, talking to you just… clarified it.”

Pepper looked like she was trying to suppress a smile for a moment, but then she was crossing her arms, raising her eyebrows, and saying, “Ok. What’s your idea?”

“What’s my idea,” parroted Tony, whose brain had expanded its regular 8 tracks to 16 in a frantic attempt to come up with an idea.

“Yeah. Lay it on me,” said Pepper.

“Well. You said that Steve and I should spend time together,” said Tony desperately trying to stall.

“Yeah,” said Pepper.

“And that this problem needed outside help,” said Tony.

“Yep. Those sound like things that I said,” said Pepper.

“Right.”

“Right.”

“So… one way to put those things together, would be… a project.”

“A project?” said Pepper.

Tony was going to keep letting words fall out of his mouth, when he realized that of all the tracks his brain was running on right now, the one that was handling the conversation with Pepper was somehow the one that had struck gold.

“ _Yes_ ,” said Tony, “Because if there’s some kind of buffer between me and Steve as we spend time together that could be enough to stop us sniping at each other! Pepper, I’m sending you on a cruise.”

“Don’t send me on a cruise,” said Pepper, “just maybe let me sleep uninterrupted from now on.”

“Interrupt sleep, done,” said Tony, whose brain was already coming up with a million projects he could plausibly work on with Steve, “Got to go, thanks Pep!”

“And maybe check out those quarterly repor--” said Pepper just before the line went dead.

Tony spent the rest of the night narrowing down a list of fifty seven things he and Steve could spend a lot of time working on together and ultimately settled on either a new suit, a new shield, or a new motorcycle. Probably not a new motorcycle, because Steve loved that awful death trap of his for God knows what reason, but Tony figured he’d talk with Steve and see which one seemed he seemed most amenable to.

“Jarvis, where’s Steve?” Tony asked.

“Captain Rogers is on the observation deck,” replied Jarvis coolly.

 _The observation deck?_ Tony thought as the elevator doors closed, _The hell is Steve doing there?_


	3. 50 Things That Have Changed in New York Over 50 Years (Starting with the New Tallest Tower)

Buzzfeed was right. The city really had changed.

Steve could still pick out a few landmarks he remembered from before the ice - Brooklyn bridge, Central Park, the Chrysler building, the Hudson. And he knew from his travels around the city that a lot of the Victorian building fronts were still intact. But everywhere there were these new glass pillars rising out of the ground like giant rods of crystal, breaking up the familiar stone and clay of Steve’s youth. And Steve didn’t hate them, but he didn’t like them either. They just felt alien, like so many things in his new life.

Steve looked toward Grand Central Station and wondered briefly if they were tearing it down with all of the cranes and construction equipment that surrounded it. That was when Steve remembered what had happened in front of Grand Central not even 7 months ago, and the wreckage these crews must still be repairing. Steve bit down the bitter, bitter regrets he had of that day. How many people were cleaning up their mess right now? How many more could they have saved? What was Steve doing to make up for the giant gouge the Avengers had torn through the middle of Manhattan? Christ, they could’ve _tried_ to push the fight to the river or the park--

Steve’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the elevator dinging behind him. Steve turned around and immediately felt his blood pressure go up when he saw it was Tony.

“Hey,” said Tony.

“Hi,” said Steve.

“What’re you doing up here?” asked Tony, as he peered around Steve’s shoulder over the city.

“Just leaving,” said Steve as he turned toward the elevator.

“Wait-- are you doing the Buzzfeed list?” asked Tony.

Steve hesitated, and a huge, smarmy grin broke out across Tony’s face.

“You are, aren’t you! Oh man, we should document this for Buzzfeed. Jarvis, can you take a pic--”

“Goodbye, Tony,” said Steve, as he shoved his fists into his pockets and strode as quickly as he could toward the elevator.

“Steve, wait--”

“Just send me an email with whatever you want and Jarvis’ll get it to me” said Steve over his shoulder, as the elevator doors opened.

“God dammit, Steve, can you pull your head out of your ass for five seconds and _talk_ to me? This is important!” shouted Tony.

Steve stopped, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned around.

“What do you want, Tony?” asked Steve.

“Fucking _thank you_ ,” said Tony as he made his way over to Steve. “Now, if we’re both done with the ritual bickering, what I _want_ is this here?”

Tony gestured between the two of them.

“I want this to stop. Because we’re fucking adults, Steve, and we’re also the fucking Avengers. People’s lives depend on us. If we keep this up, somebody’s going to die. One of us is going to say he needs help and the other one’s going to roll his eyes or not respond fast enough and someone is going to _die_ , Steve, and it might not be one of us. And I have enough deaths on my conscience, ok? Now I know right now you can’t stand me and God knows I am not friends with you either, but we have to _try to fix this_ , _Steve_.”

And suddenly, Steve felt like the biggest asshole in Avengers tower. Because, God help him, Tony was right. Steve tried to open his mouth to say so, which was when he realized his jaw was clenched. And then that every single thing about his posture was was also in a combat stance - his hands were in fists, his shoulders were back, and his feet were planted like he was ready to throw a punch for Christ’s sake. Tony had taken a big fucking risk dressing down Captain America when he looked this threatening, which made Steve feel even worse.

Steve relaxed his posture as much as he could, and then said, “Ok.”

Tony blinked. “What?” he asked.

 _God, he WOULD make me repeat it_ , Steve thought but swallowed down all the petty retorts and instead said, “You’re right. This can’t continue.”

“Thank you,” said Tony, “now I think we’re past the point of trust falls and we might well kill each other on a weekend retreat, but I came here to ask you if you wanted to try doing something together.”

“Like what?”

“Some kind of project. Something that’s going to force us to spend time together, but when we’re ready to kill each other we can focus on it instead of us. Like--” and Steve watched Tony’s eyes light up with an idea.

“What was on that list again?” asked Tony.


	4. 7 Books Tony Stark Could Not Live Without

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're past the setup! Time for our boys to start getting to know each other outside of work.
> 
> If you've never been to the Guggenheim, I recommend doing a google image search to get a sense of what the building looks like, especially from the inside.

“So you haven’t been to any museums since you started living in the tower? Aren’t you an art guy?” asked Tony incredulously. Tony’s driver had dropped them off two blocks away from the Guggenheim on Central Park East and they were making their way toward it in the bitter January cold.

“I tried to go to the Met, but I got mobbed by a bunch of teenagers so I left,” said Steve, and he sounded so sad that for a moment, Tony considered buying out the Met for an evening so Steve could enjoy his paintings in peace. And then Tony remembered the baseball card, and that buying a whole museum’s time would piss Steve off, which Tony was determined not to do. Because somehow so far this morning they’d gone a solid 30 minutes in each other’s company without bickering, and Tony was so determined to keep up that hot streak he was weighing every word he said five times as carefully as he usually did.

“That reminds me,” said Tony as he dug through his pockets, “we’re pretty covered up now but once we get inside we have to check our coats. Clip this to your shirt collar when we do. It’s called a SEP.”

Tony handed over the small black beeper-sized device to Steve, who examined it almost owlishly.

“It projects a hologram onto your face,” said Tony, “Anyone looking straight at you will barely see it, but people who aren’t paying attention won’t recognize you. Which is everyone in New York City. Handy if you want to avoid the fan mob and the paparazzi.”

“Wow,” said Steve as he pocketed the device, “I wish I’d had this at the Met.”

“I only invented it a week ago, but I tested it and it seems to work.”

“What does ’SEP’ mean?” asked Steve.

“It’s… private joke. Sci-fi humor.”

“Something I might know?”

“Doubt it - _The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy_ , by Douglas Adams _._ ”

“Tell me about it,” said Steve.

So Tony filled Steve in on the history and highlights of the Hitchhiker’s universe: the radio plays and the books and the TV show and the movie; the Vogons, Zaphod Beeblebrox and the answer to life, the universe and everything. He even threw in a few details on how it played into the larger picture of popular sci-fi ( _Star Trek, Dune, Battlestar Galactica,_ and of course, the greatest sci-fi epic ever made, _Star Wars_ ).

“They establish in one of the later books that it’s practically impossible to make something invisible through technology, but it _is_ possible to project a field over something that tricks anyone looking at it into thinking it’s somebody else’s problem, so their eyes just slide right over it. It’s called a SEP drive, short for ‘Somebody Else’s Problem.’ Which… is how we got on this topic. That I’ve been talking at you about for 15 minutes.”

Crap. Steve had found a hole in the filter. But as Tony glanced nervously back at Steve, he saw Steve was looking at him intently, like he’d been listening the entire time. And he didn’t even seem annoyed.

“Wow, that sounds like a really great series,” said Steve, “do you recommend starting with the radio plays or the books?”

And… did they walk through the fucking looking glass? Where the hell did _this_ Steve come from?

“It’s, um… I started with the books when I was in college. Purists say radio-plays or bust. But either one is great.”

“I’ll have to check it out,” said Steve, who must’ve really been paying attention, because he turned his head back towards the building they were in line for and his eyes went wide.

“That’s… wow, that’s the Guggenheim?”

Tony grinned. “Yep! And if you think the outside looks cool, just wait till you see the inside.”

They made their way through the doors, and Tony appreciated Steve’s wide-eyed wonder as he gaped at the giant skylight in the ceiling and turned in a full circle to look at the spiral ramp that made up the interior of the museum.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” said Steve breathlessly, “how… but it’s a spiral! How does it stay up?”

So while they checked their coats and paid for their tickets, Tony talked about gunite and cantilevers and Frank Lloyd Wright and _oh God, is Steve really listening to this?_ But he was. He even asked questions about things he didn’t understand. Tony had been so determined to avoid his usual verbal sins that he was sure would tick Steve off, and here Steve was not only enduring this onslaught of word-vomit, but _not hating it_?

“Listen, Steve,” started Tony apologetically as they started to make their way up the spiral, “You can just tell me to shut up when I start going on like that, it’s not rude.”

“Why would I tell you to shut up when you’re talking about something you like?” asked Steve absent-mindedly, as he started taking in the Kandinsky exhibit.

And Tony was speechless.


	5. 15 Famous Moms of 15 Famous People (Maria Stark was a Knockout!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Hinting at Howard Stark's A+ parenting and husbandship here.

“Steve, I am _dying_ here,” Tony whined.

“I told you to go look at the other exhibits,” said Steve, without even looking up from his sketchbook, “I think there’s some Escher drawings in this wing, go check them out while I finish this. I think you’ll like his work.”

“The whole point of this little field trip is to spend time together, Steve. And if I’m off somewhere else we’re not together. Ergo, I’m right, and you’ve been drawing that stupid painting for _30 minutes_ , Steve, it’s got _enough_ details, let’s _go_.”

The afternoon had been going so well. They’d talked sci-fi and architecture and hadn’t so much as said an unkind word to each other for over an hour, which had to be some kind of record for them. Initially Steve had wanted to see if it was possible for Tony to talk himself out, but it turns out when you let a genius talk about whatever he likes, you end up getting to learn a lot of really interesting stuff. And Tony hadn’t used the opportunity to take any of the familiar potshots at Steve. He could have, especially when Steve decided to risk asking him a few clarifying questions, but Tony hadn’t rolled his eyes or denigrated Steve’s education or whatever other creative insults he could’ve come up with. Instead he’d answered Steve’s questions and expounded on the things Steve seemed interested in and generally behaved like they were having a normal conversation. They were starting their way up the ramp in the museum when Steve realized he was enjoying Tony’s company for a change. Why hadn’t they done this sooner?

But all of that was before they’d started looking at the actual art, because Tony was incapable of paying attention to anything longer than a fraction of a second unless it was a machine or a math problem, and the Guggenheim was short on both. But they’d managed a peaceable equilibrium of Tony mostly playing with his phone while Steve appreciated the art, right up until Steve had broken out his drawing pencils.

“The list said ‘bring a sketchpad,’ remember? What do you think it was for, a fancy hat?” said Steve, regretting the anger that was already starting to seep back into his voice.

“If it was a fancy hat we’d’ve had to check it at the door, like your ego until about 30 minutes ago,” Tony retorted.

“Oh it’s my ego that needs checking here?” said Steve, “I can’t do something that’s not about you for 30 minutes and we start arguing again. Whose ego is the problem here?”

“Jesus Christ, could you--” Steve saw Tony look at the painting Steve was drawing, then close his eyes and swallow.

“Draw something else, Steve. We can go down a floor and you can draw impressionists until the museum closes. I’ll pay to keep it open for you if you want. Just… draw something else.”

And that caught Steve off guard. He looked back at the painting - a Picasso of a blonde woman seated in an armchair. Then he looked back at Tony.

“What is it about this painting that’s upset you?” asked Steve.

“Uh, no, we are not having art therapy in the fucking Guggenheim,” spat Tony as he started to pace. Which was when Steve noticed the plaque on the wall behind him.

_The Guggenheim Museum thanks the Howard and Maria Stark foundation for their generous donation to this collection._

Steve looked around. The room was full of Picassos, Warhols, Eschers and the occasional Calder. Steve couldn’t have picked a better collection for Howard if he’d tried.

“Did your mom pick any of the art in your family’s collection?” asked Steve.

“Wow, you’re not as dumb as you look, Rogers,” Tony fired back, “I was starting to wonder when you couldn’t read the name over the fucking door.”

Steve knew that was bait, and he didn’t rise to it. Whatever was going on here it was at least 10 layers deep into Tony’s personal issues, and Steve was sure Tony would like nothing better than to sidestep all of it and have a shouting match instead. Maybe if Steve was feeling spiteful he’d’ve given him one. But if they were going to succeed at what they were trying to do here, they needed to dismantle these landmines before they went off and hurt someone later.

“C’mon,” said Steve, as he got up, “let’s take a walk.”

They were near the top of the spiral, so they took their time walking down the ramp in silence. Steve knew if there was one thing Tony couldn’t abide it was silence, so all he had to do was wait and see what Tony was comfortable saying. Steve had once hid in a tree for 9 hours waiting to ambush a nazi caravan, and Tony had 5 coffee makers in his workshop because he could never wait for a pot to be full. He had a feeling he could wait Tony out.

Sure enough, they hadn’t even completed one rotation of the spiral when Tony said, “Mom’s art of choice was the ballet. Which Howard thought was boring as dirt, so she took me when she went. I take after Dad as far as interest in ballet goes, but the alternative was letting her go alone, and mom spent enough time alone as it was. But paintings were Howard’s thing, which is why you didn’t see anything that even hinted she existed.”

“Except the Picasso,” said Steve.

Steve saw Tony’s jaw clench momentarily. “He said it reminded him of her. Which is such horse shit because it’s nothing like mom at all.”

Steve compared the video footage he’d seen of Maria with the painting in his mind. The woman in the painting was regal and crisp and a bit stiff. Maria had struck Steve as quiet and kind and a little sad.

“What was Maria like?” asked Steve.

“Look,” said Tony, as he stopped to look at Steve, “I’m sorry I was acting like an asshole and I get you’re trying to be nice here, but you’re not my therapist and you’re not even my friend. So if it’s all the same to you, I think we should stick a pin in this, buy a tacky magnet for the fridge, and call this a mixed results start to Operation Capsicle Listicle.”

So much for dismantling the landmine.

“Fine. But we are _not_ calling it that,” said Steve.

“We can workshop it,” said Tony.

They’d continued walking down the spiral ramp towards the exit when Steve decided to make a tactical sacrifice.

“Sarah Rogers and you would’ve gotten on like a house on fire,” said Steve.

Tony said nothing, which Steve decided to take as a promising sign and press on.

“I can’t decide whether I mean that literally - you would either have been best friends or burned the place down, you’re so alike.”

“I never read anything about your mom being a playboy billionaire philanthropist superhero,” said Tony.

“Purely for lack of money,” said Steve, “Ma was a spitfire. English wasn’t even her first language and she still talked circles around everyone she met. And everything out of her mouth was as smart as she was. I’m not the right person to judge intelligence but I think she would’ve given you a run for your money, Tony. She was more into the theoretical side of things, though, and it turns out there wasn’t a lot of money in being really good at geometry. Or if there was, it wasn’t a career path open to a poor Irish immigrant single mother in Brooklyn who got her education from the public library. But she used to read me geometric proofs like they were bedtime stories.”

Tony barked out a laugh. “Wish I could’ve met her,” he said.

“Me too,” said Steve, “You know what she did for fun? Pentagonal tiling. After she put me to bed I used to hear her downstairs swearing she’d cover the damn plane if it killed her.”

Steve talked about his ma the rest of the way down, and kept going as they stopped in the gift shop to get a book on the Guggenheim’s architecture and a sufficiently cheesy magnet for the communal fridge. And Tony listened, albeit with his mouth. He must’ve asked a hundred questions, and cracked just as many jokes about what Steve’s mom must’ve gotten up to at her job if she was that brilliant and spent her life making shoes.

“I’ll bet she got ten times the leather out of one hide than all the other girls in the factory,” said Tony, as they got back in the car back to the tower.

“Oh absolutely,” said Steve, “It was a point of pride for her. But Ma wasn’t the only brilliant immigrant stuck in a factory job back then. Mrs. Barnes spoke 15 languages.”

“Christ, if we ever end up with a time machine our moms should start a sewing circle,” chuckled Tony. Then he paused, and added, “Maria kept rare orchids. So did a lot of rich people back then, but they hired gardeners to take care of theirs. Mom did it herself. And she loved those orchids. She could tell you everything there was to know about them, plus a few of her own discoveries. In another life she’d’ve been a world-famous botanist.”

Tony exhaled slowly and looked out the window, before he continued, “She used to buy me plants to see if the green thumb got passed down, but I’d always-- I got Howard’s patience for things that grow slowly. She never did stop buying me plants, though, right up until the accident. And then right after-- well, the Botanical gardens have her orchids now. But they can’t make them bloom like mom did. She had a real gift for making things bloom.”

“You get a lot from her, y’know,” said Steve, “Speaking as someone who’s met half of your parents. You’re less like Howard than most people think.”

“So my therapist tells me,” said Tony dully.

“I mean it. People talked _under_ Howard, but they talk _with_ you. And you managed to get all of his brains without the quarter inch fuse we all assumed came with it.”

“You have no idea,” Tony muttered darkly as he continued to stare out the window.

Steve was getting the feeling that if they ever did get that time machine, he’d need to pay Howard an unpleasant visit.

“I know we’re only doing this because we haven’t gotten along, but I was coworkers with Howard and I’m friends with you, whatever that might say.”

“We’re friends now?” said Tony, finally looking over at Steve as they pulled up to the tower.

Steve shrugged, then replied, “I’d like to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah Rogers is loosely based off a real person: Marjorie Rice. She was a home maker in the 1970's with only a high school education, but she contributed tremendously to a math problem we STILL haven't completely solved: pentagonal tessellation. That's what Sarah was referring to about "covering the plane" - some pentagons can "tile" in a way that completely covers a 2D plane and some can't. We still don't know how many of these pentagons there are or what kind of pattern there is to pentagons that can and can't tile. But Marjorie Rice discovered dozens of pentagons and tessellation patterns from her kitchen table. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marjorie_Rice
> 
> Some of the artists Steve referenced are a little past his time, but I've decided that Steve got caught up the big names and highlights of art history after the ice. I also decided that Howard had a frankly ludicrous amount of money because holy shit that collection would be expensive.
> 
> Also, I forgot it was established in canon that Sarah Rogers was a nurse. Ah well. She made shoes in this universe.


	6. Match the Avenger to their Melted Gumball Popsicle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all have as much fun reading this chapter as I did writing it.

“I apologize,” said Thor, “but did your people not just celebrate the new year recently?”

“Yeah, I can see how that’d be confusing, big guy,” said Bruce, who gave a rudimentary explanation of Chinese Lunar calendar and the Gregorian calendar. He didn’t go into leap years or the Hebrew or Julian calendars, which felt a bit incomplete to Tony, but nobody else seemed to care.

“You did warn them we were coming, right Tony?” said Clint, “Because I personally am about to eat my own weight in soup dumplings and I’m worried what that means for feeding Steve and Thor.”

“Don’t forget me. I’m eating for two, and one of us is a bottomless pit,” said Bruce.

“I didn’t want paparazzi so I didn’t say exactly who we were, but I told them six sumo wrestlers were coming and they should prepare accordingly.”

“That might not be enough,” said Steve, as his stomach growled.

“Hey, if we clean them out, there’s a hundred more dim sum restaurants in spitting distance. They can’t _all_ run out of food,” said Tony.

“Wanna bet?” said Nat, as they pushed their way inside the restaurant and headed over to the escalator upstairs to the dining floor. Steve paused as he got to the bottom of it and his whole body tensed.

“C’mon, Steve, just like we practiced,” said Natasha gently, as she took Steve’s hand.

Steve stepped on the escalator, and immediately sighed with relief. Tony was biting his lip so hard he thought he might draw blood. Bruce elbowed him in the ribs, and the following conversation took place just through their eyes and body language.

_Don’t do it, Tony._

_Oh come on, this is hilarious._

_Don’t be an asshole to Steve._

_But Captain America is afraid of escalators!_

_Do you really want to start us off like that today?_

_Why do you have to kill my fun, Bruce?_

_Someone has to._

_Fffffffine. I won’t say anything. For now._

_Thank you, Tony._

By then they were at the top of the escalator, and when Tony looked around everyone was staring at them.

“Just curious - how many PhDs do you have to get before you become telepathic like that?” asked Clint.

“Just the one. For your second PhD you get a twelve inch dick,” said Tony.

Steve immediately started coughing like he was choking on his own spit. And that immediately triggered Tony’s conscience reflex, which he stifled in the only way he knew how.

“See? Steve knows,” said Tony with a wink, which made Steve turn an even deeper shade of crimson.

“ _Tony_ ,” said Bruce, utterly exasperated.

Steve looked like he wanted to dissolve into the floor, and as strong as the urge was to tell lewder and lewder jokes until Steve finally broke and started fighting with him, so both Steve _and_ Tony were the assholes instead of just Tony... their project was not going to progress if they stayed in this particular pattern.

“You guys go get started, Cap and I need to talk in private about important Avengers business,” said Tony.

“You do realize you don’t get to pull the ‘important Avengers business’ card on the actual Avengers, right?” said Clint.

Natasha swatted him in the elbow, and signed something in ASL. Which made Clint roll his eyes and say, “Fine. Our table will be the one with like a hundred steam baskets on it. C’mon, Thor, time to introduce you to _shumai_.”

Tony walked over to the men’s room and waved at Steve to follow him in. Tony confirmed no one else was in there, put a “Cleaning in Progress” sign outside the door so they wouldn’t be disturbed, then pressed his palms together and put his fingers to his lips.

“Did they not have sex jokes in the 1940’s?” said Tony.

“Fuck you, Tony,” said Steve, but he wasn’t meeting Tony’s eyes when he said it. In fact, he seemed like he was trying to fit his 6’4” height into his old 5’2” frame.

“Hey, look at me Steve,” said Tony. Steve looked, and it wasn’t just embarrassment there - it was shame too. Steve was trying to mask it with defiance, but Tony had done that himself enough times to recognize it for what it was. So Tony sighed, rubbed the back of his neck, and picked his words carefully.

“Look, Steve… if we can’t hang out unless I keep it PG around you, I will try to figure out a way to do that. It will suck, and I will be less fun to be around, but I will do it. But I don’t think I’d be doing you any favors. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that pretty much everything is a lot more explicit these days and if you want to spend the 21st century living in 50 shades of red that’s your prerogative, but personally I think it’d turn out better for both of us if you could stop doing your impression of a magenta crayon any time anyone says anything about sex.”

Steve shifted his weight around, as if he were debating whether to bolt out of the bathroom and avoid this conversation entirely. Then he closed his eyes and sighed.

“The Howlies, one of their nicknames for me was ‘Bashful,’” said Steve, “They even put a patch on my tent that looked like the dwarf from the movie. The difference is that back then, bashful guys were a lot more common. And the songs on the radio used a lot more euphemisms. So it wasn’t as big of a problem.”

“Ok,” said Tony, “I’m going to let you in on a secret, Steve. C’mere, lean in close.”

Steve did. Tony put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, looked around conspiratorially, then said, “Are you listening? Ok, here it goes: sex… is _funny._ ”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“I mean it!” said Tony, “Think about it for a sec - the entire human race has these extra sensitive giblets and all we wanna do is mash’em together. Sometimes we even mash’em in each other’s faces! Or in each other’s butts! That’s hilarious!”

Steve was still blushing and he was shaking his head, but there was a grin on his face.

“Even the _words_ are funny, Steve,” continued Tony. “ _Schlong. Pussy. Fap. Schtup_. We keep coming up with more and more ridiculous words for our genitals and what we do with them because the fact they just hang out in our pants all the time and make us do stupid things, is _really fucking funny, Steve._ ”

Steve was biting his lip to suppress a laugh now.

“What’s the stupidest thing you ever did when you were thinking with your dick?” said Tony, “Hang on, let me tell you mine first - I stole an ice cream truck when I was 16 because I thought it would get me laid.”

And that got Steve to laugh. “You did _not_ ,” he chuckled.

“I did! Horny teenage Tony Stark thought Stacey McGuire was going to be at a party across town, but my parents had taken away my driving privileges. And I could’ve called a cab but all the blood was in my dick and none of it was in my brain, so when I heard the Mr. Softie jingle at the top of the block I got what I decided was the most _brilliant idea I’d ever had._ I went outside, _paid a kid_ to pretend he was too shy to come up close so the driver would have to come out to him, and then stole the truck to drive over to the party. And you know what the kicker is, Steve?”

“What?” said Steve, who was barely holding it together.

 _“_ She wasn’t even there! ” Tony exclaimed, and that was what finally got Steve to collapse into hysterics.

“She never came to any house parties, but I was _sure_ she was going to go to _that_ one because when you are 16 and horny and the universe has sent you an ice cream truck, clearly it will also send Stacey to the party so you can get laid. I showed up expecting to overwhelm her with creamy goodness in more ways than one, and instead I had a hundred drunk teenagers clamoring for Tweety Bird gumball pops. Anyway, I spent maybe fifteen minutes wondering if I should drive the truck over to _her_ _house_ , because I was so full of good ideas that day, when l looked over and saw Penny Kurtz. Specifically, Penny Kurtz’s mouth wrapped around a popsicle. So I immediately forgot Stacey and got to work trying to get Penny’s mouth around _my_ popsicle and honestly, I could keep going with this story, but the point is the litany of stupid things I have done while horny is _very long_ and _very funny._ ”

Steve was laughing so hard he was leaning against the wall for support, and Tony was laughing too because Steve’s laughter was just fucking infectious.

“But seriously, Steve,” said Tony when he felt like he could talk again, “when we joke about sex, we rob it of its power. We feel better about the fact that this embarrassing common experience makes so many of us do such stupid, stupid things. Except asexuals, who are more powerful than God but they have even more reason to laugh at the rest of us. Anyway, what’s the stupidest thing you ever did when you were thinking with your dick, huh Steve? Let’s rob it of some power.”

Steve found a new shade of red blush and stared at the floor, but he was smiling and a little breathless when he said, “I uh… I put a roll of socks… down my trousers. To make me look… um…”

Tony snorted. “You packed socks in your underpants so people would think you had a big dick, Steve. That’s… wait,” Tony searched Steve’s face and saw he was still looking at the ground, “there’s more to this story isn’t there?”

“Uh… y-yeah,” said Steve, “Me and my date, her name was Darla, we went for a walk. And they… fell out. Down the leg of my pants. And she asked what… and instead of answering I bolted and ran home.”

Tony hooted. “You _left your date_ because _…_ ” and then Tony saw Steve was still staring at the floor. “There’s _more_!?”

“We uh… we didn’t have a lot of money so when I got home I realized I only had the socks I was wearing on my feet,” Steve continued, “And I tried to lie to ma about where the other ones had gone. But she saw right through me so I ended up having to… to tell her. And she told me she wouldn’t buy new socks for a reason that stupid and took me to go and collect them.”

Tony fucking lost it. And then Steve was laughing too, which just made Tony laugh harder.

“Steve Rogers, that is the _funniest fucking thing_ I have _ever fucking heard!_ ” wheezed Tony. “I am going to cherish that story until I _die_.”

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up, Mr. creamy goodness,” said Steve, which set off a brand new round of side-splitting laughter from them both.

Some time later when they were both absolutely wrung out from laughing, Tony sighed and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

“C’mon, Cap,” said Tony, “let’s go join the others before they think we’re boning in here.”

Steve still looked a little uncomfortable, but then he said, “In the restaurant bathroom? You haven’t even bought me dinner yet.”

Tony clapped him on the shoulder with pride.

“We’ll make a lewd comic of you yet, Rogers,” said Tony as they walked out the bathroom door and into the restaurant, “Although if you think a restaurant bathroom is an uncouth place to have sex, I don’t know if I should tell you what happened later between me and Penny in that ice cream truck.”

Everyone loved dim sum (and the restaurant managed to keep their table fed, albeit after a while the dumplings changed slightly and Tony had a suspicion the manager was getting some help from the restaurants next door), and between the dumplings and the celebration in the air and the company, everyone ultimately left in such high spirits that Tony considered making this a monthly thing (if the restaurant would have them back).

Tony felt an elbow in his ribs and saw Bruce gesturing in the direction of the men’s room at the top of the escalator. _What happened in there?_ said Bruce’s body language

 _Don’t worry about it,_ replied Tony with his.

“Either you two need to start speaking out loud or we all start splitting up your PhDs so we can be in on the psychic conversation too,” said Clint.

“Sorry, Clint,” said Tony, “each additional PhD adds another inch to our colossal schlongs, and can’t be redistributed.”

“I didn’t know I had 100 PhDs,” said Steve.

There was dead silence as everyone stared at Steve. Then everyone started laughing so hard they had to stop walking. Tony was so proud he felt he could die right there and proudly tell St. Peter that whatever his sins were, he managed to make this moment of pure, unbridled joy possible and that had to be worth _something_.

“Steve! That was hilarious!” Clint gasped.

“Well done, Steve,” said Thor, slapping Steve on the back.

“I can’t believe all of my friends are idiots,” said Nat, who was clutching her side.

“Idiots with _huge penises,_ thank you very much,” Bruce chuckled.

“Hey, Thor,” said Clint as they finally continued walking out of the restaurant lobby “How many PhDs does Jane have again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You throw a stick anywhere in Chinatown and you'll hit a dozen excellent dim sum restaurants but in my imagination, this is the restaurant they went to (and I can personally confirm their dumplings are delicious): http://jingfongny.com/location-chinatown.html?fbclid=IwAR3c6L1572rFXP_s2vaXlqbPPkecQiLg7kktkTW-Mez61POdqVqwfXP-VC0
> 
> I spent a rather embarrassing amount of time trying to decide on Steve's dick joke at the end. Runners up were "I'm glad Peggy stopped at the one" and "I should probably stop accepting all those honorary doctorates then."
> 
> UPDATE: I had so much fun writing this chapter I expanded it into its own fic so the rest of the Avengers can tell their embarrassing sex stories too. Once you're done with this fic, check out "Stupid Sexy Avengers" to hear fuller versions of Steve's and Tony's embarrassing sex stories plus Nat's, Bruce's, Clint's, Thor's, Jane's and Rhodey's.


	7. 8 Songs on Bruce Banner’s Karaoke Playlist

They’d intended to stay for the fireworks, but they hadn’t made it far from the restaurant before someone unexpectedly set off a few private firecrackers nearby and the sound had made everyone but Thor jump. Some of them momentarily started looking for cover.

“Is anyone actually going to enjoy this?” said Tony, who could always be counted on to say out loud the things everyone was thinking privately.

“Probably not,” said Natasha.

“Cool,” said Tony who started talking to his phone, “Let’s go do something else on Steve’s list. J? Book us a noraebang.”

A short car ride later, they were walking up a narrow staircase in Koreatown.

“Steve, remind me to send some chocolates or something to whoever wrote this list,” said Bruce, who hadn’t looked this excited since he’d gotten a tank of sea cucumbers for Christmas last year, “We should’ve done this ages ago.”

“I can’t even remember the last time I did karaoke,” said Natasha. Then she added, “Well, that’s a lie - I did it in Tokyo in ‘09 at a yakuza’s birthday party, but that was at a bar, not a noraebang.”

“Hey, now that we’re here, does anyone want to tell my friend what karaoke or a noraebang is?” said Steve, “He’s embarrassed to ask.”

“Thank you, Steve,” said Thor, which Steve did _not_ expect.

They were at the top of the landing now, and Clint came up behind Steve and Thor and clapped a hand on both of their shoulders.

“Steven, Thor, my beautiful, gigantic sons. Today is the day you discover something very special,” he said.

“That’s right,” said Tony, as they proceeded down a long hallway of identically-spaced doors, “You see, when a smartass archer, a Norse god, a Russian spy, an American icon, a big green nerd and a billionaire egomaniac all like each other very, very much, sometimes, they come together and do something about it.”

“First, they drink,” said Natasha, “A lot.”

“Magnificent! I like this tradition already.” said Thor, who immediately produced a flask from God knows where and took a swig.

“And if they drink _enough_ ," said Tony as he opened the door to a small room with benches lined along the wall, a ball made of mirrors in the ceiling, and a small stage at one end with a few microphones on it, “they _sing_.”

Steve’s spirits had been pretty high walking into the noraebang, but had faltered a bit at the promise of yet another night of everyone but him getting drunk, and the moment he saw the stage they’d bottomed out completely.

“What’s the problem, honeycake?” said Tony, looking at Steve as they all filed in the room, “Is it the booze? I’ve never done karaoke sober but I’m game if everyone else is.”

“No, please,” said Steve, “We’ve talked about this. _Please_ drink. I _want_ you to drink.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” said Clint, who’d just taken a tray of shots from the waitress who’d appeared at the doorway a moment ago and was already downing one.

“I think I know what’s up,” said Bruce, as walked onto the stage, “Steve thinks it’s a problem that he can’t sing.”

Steve decided to go with that.

“Guilty. Couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket,” said Steve.

“But that’s the best part of karaoke,” said Bruce knowingly as he picked up a mic, “It’s not about how well you can sing. It’s about channeling your inner diva so well that it _doesn’t fucking matter._ ”

Bruce pointed directly at Tony.

“Tony! Has Jarvis finished hacking the karaoke machine?”

“Already did before we got here,” said Tony.

Bruce pointed at Clint.

“Clint! I need another Spice Girl.”

“Like you even have to ask,” said Clint, who immediately picked up another mic.

Bruce pointed at the black column of electronics next to the stage.

“Jarvis! You already know what I’m about to say.”

“Starting _Wannabe_ ,” said Jarvis through the speakers.

What followed was, in theory, a lot of fun. Everyone took turns throwing back shots (except Steve and Bruce, the latter of whom never had more than one drink per outing for obvious reasons) and belting out what Steve guessed were all the famous pop tunes of the last couple of decades. And Bruce was right - they were a motley mix of great singers (Tony) not horrible ones (Bruce, Nat), and piss poor ones (Thor, Clint), but none of that mattered compared to the sheer cheesecake bravado everyone brought to the mic (especially Bruce). And Steve was filled with that same sort of fond detachment that he’d felt on the few times he and the Howlies got to cut loose and celebrate. Like he was surrounded by people he cared about deeply, but there was a pane of glass between him and everyone else. Back then he’d chalked it up to being their commanding officer, but now? It wasn’t just that he was sober and most of them were drunk, and it wasn’t just that they were singing and he wasn’t. He just felt… displaced. Like a puzzle piece in the wrong box. And whatever puzzle he’d originally belonged to was long gone, even before he went into the ice.

“C’mon, Steve,” said Tony, who was somewhere between buzzed and drunk at the moment and was sure to progress to plastered before the night was through, “Y’can’t come to karaoke and not sing. It’s against the rules.”

“I’m good, Tony,” said Steve.

“Come on! It’s-- oh! You don’t know any of this music, do you?”

“You’re right about that,” said Steve evasively.

“J, find a duet me and Steve would both know,” Tony called over his shoulder.

“Can it wait until after this song?” said Thor, “Jane has requested I send her a video of myself performing a ballad called _Dancing Queen_. She says it would do a great honor to a place with a cherished relationship with Asgard.”

“Go for it, Thor!” shouted Tony.

Everyone else cheered Thor on as he absolutely butchered something upbeat and poppy. But Tony sat back on the bench next to Steve and said, “Ok, I’m out of ideas. What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Tony,” said Steve.

“So, I know if this were me, you’d wait me out in silence until I told you what was up,” said Tony, “But also, I literally cannot be quiet that long. So instead, I’m going to lob theories at you until you confirm one is right.”

“Tony--” said Steve.

“It’s not the booze or the tunes, so… you’ve never sung a song before. You’re allergic to ABBA. You were beaten up by a gang of microphones as a kid. You’re actually three raccoons in a Steve suit. You--”

“I don’t like to perform, Tony,” said Steve.

Tony blinked, then smacked a hand to his forehead.

“The USO. Christ, I’m an idiot,” said Tony.

“It’s fine,” said Steve, “I had to cross this off the list eventually, if we’re going to be completionists about it.”

“Did you ever like to perform before you were Captain America? Like, was there something there that the USO killed, or have you always been like this?”

Steve blinked, utterly taken aback by the question.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I can’t remember,” said Steve.

“Were you in any school plays? Recitals? Go caroling in the old Brooklyn neighborhood?”

“I… sang in church?” said Steve.

“I’ll take it,” said Tony, throwing back another shot and wiping his mouth with his sleeve, “Kay, why do people sing in church, Steve?”

“It’s another way of praying, Tony.”

“And what’s praying?”

“...connecting with God,” said Steve warily.

“Exactly! Strip out all the bullshit and people perform to connect with each other. Or with God, if you go for that sort of thing,” Tony said with a vague wave of his empty shot glass.

“What’s your point?” said Steve.

“Ok, this was obviously not your experience, Steve, but _most_ people who go into show business do it because the connection goes both ways. The people in the audience connect to the performers, and the performers connect right back. Even in your example - you got _something_ out of singing in church, right? There’s a feedback loop there. It feels absolutely fucking fantastic when you’re giving it all you’ve got and the audience is eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“But not for me,” said Steve.

“Another thing about most performisses… performasis… that word,” slurred Tony, “is that they usually aren’t _nearly_ as high stakes as yours were. You were selling war bonds! People you never met lived or died based on how well you did! And one day, when I am not drunk, we will talk about the alienation of labor and how it degrades the soul, but what’s important is that is literally the highest possible amount of pressure you can put on someone’s performance. Bigger performers than you would’ve broken under that weight. But not you, because you’re Steve fucking Rogers, the star-spangled Giles Corey. The whole damn world could be on your shoulders and you’d shout, ‘More weight!’”

Karaoke to Marx to _The Crucible_ without so much as pausing for breath. What must it be like inside Tony’s head?

“But that’s no basis for a healthy relationship with performing. And there’s no war bonds to sell here, Cap. Nobody’s gonna die if we suck, and thank God for that or else Thor alone would’ve killed half of Manhattan by now. We’re all looking a little bit stupid, because the return is getting to see our friends laugh and cheer us on. We’re making the feedback loop on our own terms. And at the very least, you get to see how little everyone here cares when you’re not perfect. So c’mon,” said Tony as he stood up and offered Steve his hand, “wanna do something a little dumb so you and your friends can know each other a little better?”

Steve looked up and all he could see was Tony, reaching out to him through the pane of glass. So Steve took a breath, then took his hand.

“Lady and gentlemen!” shouted Tony into his microphone as he led Steve up to the stage, “For one night only, returning to the stage for the first time since 1940-something, Captain! Steve! Rrrrrrrogers!!”

Everyone cheered. Clint whistled. Steve shielded his eyes against the awful, familiar glare of the stage lights.

“J! Dim those lights and give us some beats!” said Tony, and Steve could look out at the room and he saw nothing but his friends, having a great damn time. And maybe, for a second, so was Steve. Then the opening notes to _It’s De-Lovely_ started to play through the speakers.

“You wanna be the girl or do you wanna sing first?” said Tony.

“How about you sing first,” said Steve.

“You’re right, I’m just the warm-up act,” said Tony, who then proceeded to absolutely kill it on the first verse, which did nothing to help Steve feel less nervous. He hadn’t sung since… jeez, it must’ve been in the church back in Brooklyn. The hell would he even sound like?

“Cap, I think you’ve got a sudden urge to sing coming on!” said Tony when he finished, which made Steve laugh and roll his eyes. Then Steve looked at the little tv screen with the lyrics, and took a plunge.

_I feel a sudden urge to sing, the kind of ditty that invokes the spring,_

_So control your desire to curse, while I crucify the verse._

“I dunno, he sounds pretty good to me, what do you all think?” said Tony in lieu of the sung response. Which, of course, got everyone to cheer again.

“On to the chorus, Cap!” said Tony, and so Steve pressed on.

_The night is young, the skies are clear, and if you want to go walking, dear,_

_It's delightful, it's delicious, it's de-lovely,_

_I understand the reason why, you're sentimental, 'cause so am I,_

_It's delightful, it's delicious, it's de-lovely,_

_You can tell at a glance, what a swell night this is for romance,_

_You can hear dear Mother Nature murmuring low,_

_“Let yourself go!”_ Tony joined in.

And as he and Tony sang the rest of the verse together and Steve looked out and saw everyone else watching them with such open faces of amusement and enjoyment, Steve felt it. The feedback loop. Tony was right, it was downright de-lovely.

Before he knew it, they were at the instrumental section, which made Tony shout, “Jarvis, don’t you dare cut out the dance break! C’mon, Steve - time to dance.”

And Steve was _not_ ready to be thinking about the last time someone had asked him to dance, but then Tony was gesturing at everyone else in the room and shouting, “Chorus! Let’s get an all-Avengers kickline up here!”

Within moments Bruce was explaining the concept of a kickline to Thor as they locked arms on the little stage, but Nat went stiff. Clint walked over, put an arm around her shoulder, then started signing rapidly. And Steve tried to avert his eyes but even in his peripheral vision he could see what they were saying.

“It’s not ballet. You’re not being trained. Everyone here is safe.”

“I don’t dance,” Nat signed back.

“Neither does Thor.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Ok. You can stay here. But I would be really happy if you came up and danced with us, and I think you’d be happy too. For Steve?”

Nat made eye contact with Steve, then set her jaw.

“Alright. For Steve,” said Nat out loud, as she got up on the stage. And Steve knew he should probably tell Nat and Clint he understood what they were signing but in that moment, when Nat was putting her arm behind his back and shaking like a leaf, all Steve could do was squeeze her shoulder, lean in and say “thank you.” Because Steve loved everyone in that room more than anything in the universe, and the fact Nat was there by his side on that stage meant she did too. And seeing what came next, which might charitably be called the worst, least coordinated kickline in the history of kicklines (Thor didn’t even know how to deliver a kick except in the context of combat), it all clicked in Steve’s brain. If he and Nat were bringing baggage to this stage, so was everyone else. Everyone in that room was a battered puzzle piece from a lost box. Yet here they were, fitting together, making a picture of something new.

_So please be sweet, my chickadee_

_And when I kiss you, just say to me_

_"It's delightful, it's delicious,_

_It's delectable, it's delirious,_

_It's dilemma, it's delimit, it's deluxe,_

_It's de-lovely”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Crucible's a bit after Steve's time, but I figured it'd fit in with the books he's read since he's come out of the ice. Tony read Marx mostly so he could surprise the hippies that protested him, and will only ever admit to agreeing with anything he had to say when he's drunk.
> 
> Darcy eventually got a hold of that video of Thor singing Dancing Queen, put it on her social media, and it went viral overnight. Members of ABBA tweeted a welcome to Thor as an unofficial new member of the band "but maybe we'll stick him on drums instead of vocals." Thor did not understand any of it, or why so many people wearing tee shirts with drawings of him in funny spandex costumes started asking for pictures with him, but was thrilled nonetheless to make so many new Midgardian friends.


	8. 3 Slam Poets Perform On the Anniversary of the Battle for New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to dedicate this chapter and the next one to the memory of Miguel Algarín, co-founder of the Nuyorican Poets Cafe, who passed away yesterday (December 1st, 2020).
> 
> It is impossible to overstate the importance of the Nuyorican Poets Cafe on New York City's poetry scene, and really its art scene in general. I only got to meet Algarín once, but he was kind and welcoming, and it shone through in the open, beautiful, vibrant space he created for New York City's creatives. He made something so unbelievably special and important to me and thousands of others who call the city home.
> 
> His memory and his legacy are truly a blessing, and I hope others carry it on by following his example and making space for its artists to shine.
> 
> https://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/ny-miguel-algarin-obit-20201202-vdqgvu672zedpmtpo2f3rhzlli-story.html

The entire month of March disappeared into a frantic blur when some guy calling himself the Silver Surfer politely informed the earth that they were all about to be devoured by some kind of cosmic entity calling itself Galactus. The world leaders and the Avengers all did a quick straw poll and decided getting devoured would be kind of a bummer, so then it was a matter of launching a spaceship (thank God Pepper had kept the Stark Industries space division funded and didn’t leave that Musk idiot to figure this shit out) and then, with the help of some magic portals from Dr. Strange, tracking the Galactus guy down. There was lots of agita and failed strategies, and ultimately a pretty sophisticated plan involving distractions and feints while Tony hacked Galactus’s ship to launch his sorry ass through a portal into a big stretch of uninhabited space where he could eat all the planets he could get his grubby lil’ paws on (ok, they were pretty big paws, but you get the idea). Then they came back to earth and it was paperwork and debriefs and interviews to pacify the public and Tony was so fucking ready for a break that when Steve came and asked if he wanted to go check out some amateur slam poetry, Tony was actually _excited_ to go.

“So the difference between a slam poem and a regular poem is, what, emphasis?” said Steve.

“Not quite,” said Tony, “Slam poetry is a performance - you mix in the sound of your voice and cadence of your speech and your body language to tie the whole thing together. It’s also an acquired taste, so if you hate it you’re in good company.”

“Sounds interesting to me,” said Steve, “but if it’s so much about how you sound, why is everyone else here Deaf?”

Tony looked up from his phone and saw Steve was right - everyone else waiting in line with them in front of the Nuyorican Poets Cafe was signing with each other, and there were hearing aids and cochlear implants as far as the eye could see.

“Well… hm. Ok,” said Tony, “Jarvis? Why is every Deaf person in New York City suddenly interested in slam poetry?”

“The first Friday of every month is reserved for poetry in American Sign Language,” said Tony’s phone.

“Ah fuck,” said Tony, “should’ve looked that up. Oh well, we can try again some other time.”

“Wait, hang on,” said Steve.

And suddenly, Steve was signing with someone next to them.

“Ok, this woman says they have interpreters inside, so a hearing audience can still take in the event if they want to.”

“Since when do you know ASL?” asked Tony incredulously.

“Since always?” said Steve, “Back in Brooklyn the couple that lived next door was completely Deaf, and they babysat me whenever ma worked late. And I sort of… picked it up. It helped that I was motivated, since I was already deaf in one ear from a bad case of the mumps, and the doctor said the other ear could go with the next fever. Anyway, my ASL’s pretty dated, but the semantics are roughly the same.”

“Mmhmm, and when were you going to tell Clint and Tasha that you knew what they were signing to each other?” said Tony.

“When they asked,” said Steve with a sheepish smile.

“Steve Rogers, you sneaky bastard,” said Tony appreciatively, “but if it’s all the same to you can we come back on a different night?”

“Why?” said Steve.

“I mean… I don’t know the language. And if I wanted to learn it I’d need at least a month. Maybe a week if I had nothing else on my plate but--”

“I just said there were interpreters inside,” said Steve, “it’ll be fine.”

“...but I don’t know the language,” repeated Tony.

Steve gave Tony a quizzical look. “Are you not comfortable hanging out around Deaf people?”

“No,” said Tony, “in case you didn’t notice, Clint and I went shot for shot at karaoke a month and a half ago.”

“Yeah, but Clint uses English to communicate with us, and he’s not here,” said Steve.

“...I don’t know how many more times I can say ‘I don’t know the language,’ Steve,” said Tony.

“Do you not trust the interpreters to get it right?” said Steve.

Tony wrung his hands. Why was Steve being so stubborn about this?

“It’s not the interpreters,” said Tony.

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t--”

“--know the language, yeah, I got that. And we’ve already established the interpreters are going to take care of that problem.”

“No, they won’t,” said Tony.

Steve pressed his lips in a line and exhaled disapprovingly, before a curious expression came over his face.

“You don’t actually know what the problem is, do you?” said Steve.

“Steve, for the fifth time, I don’t know the--”

“Stop,” said Steve, “give me your phone.”

“What? No. Why?” said Tony pleadingly.

“Just give it to me, Tony.”

Tony scowled, but handed his phone over, because by now he knew Steve wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t for a purpose, since Steve was literally incapable of being vindictive or selfish, the _bastard_.

“Now, I am going to stand here quietly, and you are going to rack that giant brain of yours for an explanation that makes sense for what the actual problem is here.”

“I can rack my brain while I have my phone!” said Tony petulantly.

“It’ll be faster if you’re not distracted,” said Steve, “now go ahead, get racking.”

Turns out Steve knew what he was talking about, because not even 20 seconds later Tony was ready with a much more complete answer.

“I don’t like being places where other people know more than me, alright?” said Tony, “If I’m there to learn whatever it is I don’t know that’s one thing, but if I’m somewhere everyone else knows something that I don’t, especially when it’s something I could hypothetically learn myself, then I feel stupid and unprepared.”

Steve handed back Tony’s phone. “Was that so hard?” he said.

“Unbearably,” said Tony, “can we go now?”

“Nope,” said Steve with a little self-satisfied grin.

“Are you trying to pick a fight right now?”

“That feeling you’re describing, like someone else is light years ahead of you and you’re caught flat-footed and looking dumb - you know that’s how literally everyone feels when they talk to you, right?”

“Yeah, but then I soothe their egos with my witticisms and raw sexual energy,” said Tony.

And that got Steve to blush, but Tony was gratified to see that instead of chastising Tony he replied, “You think Deaf people don’t have wit or... raw sexual energy?”

“Obviously some do, since Clint exists,” said Tony.

“I’ll tell him you said that.”

“You wouldn’t _dare_.”

“Ok everyone!” said the woman at the front of the line who was signing as she was speaking, “Either have your tickets or your money ready!”

“Steve--” said Tony uncomfortably as they started to shuffle up to the front of the line.

“Tony, if there is one thing I’ve learned from hanging out with you it’s that spending time with the advanced and unfamiliar leaves you a better person on the other side. So suck it up, swallow your pride, and let’s go watch some damn slam poetry.”

Tony felt like he’d been slapped, and it wasn’t just because Steve was telling him to suck it up. Ordinarily that’d be a one-way ticket to fight-town, but in the same breath Steve had said he was a better person because he spent time with Tony. And that was so completely the opposite of how this whole thing worked. Steve was the one that made everyone around him better. You couldn’t help it - he was like a walking breathing example of how you could do better if you _tried_ , you lazy bastard, and what’s more, he made you want to try. Spending time with Tony made people want to _drink_ , not _try_. Best case scenario you walked away a little bit smarter about whatever it was Tony was spouting off on at the time, or maybe buzzing from some pretty good sex. The people who were actually friends with Tony all had some kind of magic protective coating that kept them from getting exhausted with his bullshit enough to enjoy his company, but they certainly didn’t come away better people from the time they spent with him. They were good people in _spite_ of Tony, not because of him.

So what the hell was Steve going on about with Tony making him a better person? Tony didn’t know how to do that. He was stumbling every second through his own being-a-better-person experiment now that he was trying to save lives instead of inventing stuff that took them, and he was fucking that up literally all the time. Tony had no idea how to make other people better, least of all Captain America.

“I’m sorry,” said Steve, “I just-- I think you could learn something from being in an unfamiliar environment, ok? Because that’s my life, Tony. Every day. But I shouldn’t’ve told you to suck it up - I know how uncomfortable it is. If being here really makes you want to crawl out of your skin, we can go.”

And for the second time, Tony felt like he’d been slapped, because that wasn’t how this was supposed to work either. Tony was being the turd in the punchbowl here, bringing his issues into a fun night out. But there was Steve, making this all sound like he was being insecure or whatever, which-- why was he telling Tony that? Anything personal Tony knew about Steve was stuff Tony had pressed out of him, because Tony was fundamentally an asshole. But he hadn’t pressed this time. Was this trust? The hell had he done to earn _that_ except lose his shit at the Guggenheim and drunkenly force Steve to sing show tunes at the noraebang? Was it just… proximity? They were on outing number 3 of their little experiment and they’d gotten here already? Pepper was right, this spending time together shit was _potent_.

“Could you say something, please?” said Steve, “It’s really weird when you don’t talk.”

And then Tony got a third mental slap, but this time it was from what he saw when he walked through the door.

“I’m game to stay if you are, Steve,” said Tony, “But I believe our situation has just acquired a new wrinkle.”

“What?”

Tony nodded across the room at a dark-haired muscular guy who was laughing and signing with a couple of the event organizers.

“Oh shit,” said Steve, “It’s Clint.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ASL Slam is a real monthly event I've been to many, many times at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe. Even if you don't know ASL, I'd say it's worth a trip - you wouldn't *believe* the creativity of New York City's Deaf community.


	9. 4 Things Clint Barton Wants the Deaf Kids of the World to Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to get an idea of what ASL Slam at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe is like in person, I found this video the other day featuring Doug Ridloff, one of the main organizers of ASL Slam in NYC (and a very gifted poet himself), talking about it, and it has some clips of an ASL Slam at Nuyoricans: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmsqXwnqIw4
> 
> I added some hyperlinks for terminology that might not be familiar for folks who don't hang out in Deaf spaces, but if you know what the word is you don't have to click on them, they're just there for clarification.
> 
> Special thanks to my friend Kit for her input on this chapter.

Before Steve and Tony could debate whether to leave or stay, Clint spotted them and made his way over toward them. After a somewhat awkward conversation involving Tony’s phone doing speech-to-text (Clint had left his hearing aids at the tower), Steve coming clean about how much ASL he knew, and Clint marveling on the dumb luck that they happened to come do this item on their list on the one night a month Nuyorican’s did ASL poetry, they came around to the question they’d been debating at the door.

“I’m sorry, we don’t want to intrude. Do you want us to go?” Steve said as he signed.

Clint shrugged, and said aloud, “If you’re comfortable here, I’m comfortable having you here.” Then he turned to Tony and said “Do you mind if I talk to Steve for a second?”

Tony gestured for them to go ahead, then said to his phone, “J, get me some basic ASL videos played at 10x speed.” Steve and Clint turned their backs and started signing.

“Why didn’t you tell me you could sign?” asked Clint.

“You never asked,” signed Steve, “but I promise I tried to give you privacy whenever you were signing with Nat.”

“Steve, I had an extra friend I could talk to in my first language and you didn’t think I’d want to know that?”

“I didn’t want to intrude on something special you had with Nat”

“Nat and I have enough special things. You should tell us stuff like this.”

“That’s fair. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not hiding any other big secrets, right?”

“Um… English isn’t my first language either.”

“No shit! Captain _America_ ’s first language isn’t English?”

“I mean, it isn’t Cherokee either. But I only spoke Irish until I went to school. Immigrant parents, remember?”

“Hey, I don’t want to be rude,” said Tony as he tapped Clint on the shoulder, then held up his phone, “but judging from how much covert pointing I’m seeing and the fact Clint spotted us across the room, our SEPs don’t seem to be working and if we’re not staying I’d very much like to get back to the lab and figure out why.”

Clint squinted at Tony’s phone screen, then signed, “Sandwich?”

“Not Z-E-P, S-E-P,” Steve said as he signed, indicating the little black device clipped to his collar, “It…uses light to change your face slightly. So people won’t recognize us if they don’t look too closely.”

Clint chuckled, and said aloud, “Yeah, I can see why that wouldn’t work on a Deaf brain. We look closely at everything. But you don’t need those, the people here won’t be asking for autographs. Me and Nat are here all the time, people know to expect Avengers in this space and not be weird about it. C’mon, let’s sit down. They’re about to get started.”

They picked a row in the back so people would watch the show instead of them, and Steve sat down with Clint on his left and Tony on his right. They spent the evening watching performers do improv, tell jokes, and, eventually, share poetry. Clint performed an absolutely hysterical [ABC story](https://www.lifeprint.com/asl101/pages-layout/abcstory.htm) about the battle for New York. Another guy gave a moving performance about his relationship with his hearing aids and his Hearing friends. One woman performed an enormously creative poem incorporating both [AUSLAN](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auslan) and ASL to talk about her life experiences in Australia and the United States.

But the poem that really got to Steve was the last one of the night, called “Homelight.” The poet found a way to combine the signs for “home” and “light” and “inspire” and “happy” to encapsulate this feeling of joy and wholeness he felt when he was going home. And suddenly Steve’s throat was tight and his vision was blurry and he really wished he was… somewhere else. He didn’t know where. And that made it a thousand times worse.

Tony noticed first. And after a small hesitation, he put his hand over where Steve’s was resting on his lap and squeezed. Steve looked at Tony, and the expression was sympathetic and warm. And frankly Steve didn’t care if someone looked right then and got the wrong idea because it was exactly what he needed.

A few moments later, Clint put his arm around Steve’s shoulders in a side-hug. “C’mon, Cap, keep it together,” he said, “I will literally never hear the end of it if a poem that wasn’t mine was the one that made Captain America cry.”

Steve snorted, then (reluctantly?) slid his right hand out from under Tony’s and signed, “I was crying laughing when you mimed punching Loki in the dick. You didn’t see?”

“That doesn’t count and you know it,” said Clint, who then added, “If I’d known you’d like it that much, I’d’ve prepared a whole performance about punching villains in the dick.”

“You truly have the heart of a poet, Clint,” Tony held up on his phone.

Afterward, Clint went off to sign with his Deaf friends and Steve knew they wouldn’t be extracting him for a good long while, so he and Tony said goodbye and headed out. Tony called his driver and told him to meet them a couple of avenues over, so they could stretch their legs after sitting so long and take in the evening a bit before heading back.

“What’d you think?” said Steve.

“Well, I stand by my assessment that I would’ve had a better time if I knew the language,” said Tony.

“But?”

“But I didn’t realize how much overlap there was between ASL and facial expressions and body language and just using space in interesting ways. It was pretty neat to watch. And I now understand way better why ASL-translating gloves never seem to take off when they get reinvented every other year or so.”

“Yeah, Um. Thank you, by the way. For… during the last poem.”

“Steve, you don’t have to tell me anything you’d rather keep private. You got a nerve struck. Happens to the best of us.”

“Is it alright if I talk about it?”

“Only if you want to,” said Tony quickly. Then he added, “I know I sort of cornered you, in that bathroom and at the noraebang, and I don’t feel great about that.”

“Do you really think you could keep me from leaving somewhere I didn’t want to be, Tony?” asked Steve.

“Absolutely,” said Tony, “remember what I said about witticisms and raw sexual energy? I’m irresistible.”

Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head. Then he said, “Does the tower feel like home to you?”

“Most of the time. Does it feel like home to you?”

“No. No it doesn’t.”

“Ok,” said Tony carefully, “Is there anything any of us could do to help?”

“No, Tony,” said Steve, and he failed at keeping the sorrow from his voice, “The thing is, nowhere’s felt like home to me in a really long time, even before the ice. Not here, not the front, and definitely not the USO tour. Hell, Brooklyn stopped feeling like home after ma died. And I think of all the places I’ve been and the only common variable in all of them is me.”

“Gonna stop you right there, Cap,” said Tony, “because I’ve been on that particular train of thought enough times to know where it’s headed. There’s nothing wrong with you, Steve. You’re not broken.”

“Yeah, ok,” said Steve half-heartedly.

“You want proof? First of all, you haven’t been in one place longer than a couple of months since, you were, what, 19? So already, we don’t have enough data to confirm you can’t find home somewhere, because you’ve never hung your cowl somewhere long enough to give it the old college try. Second… you know that dent in the wall in the gym back at the tower? The one that got there when Thor tried to convince you to get matching tattoos and you hip-checked him? When you see it, does the tower feel more like home to you?”

Steve grinned at the memory, then surprised himself when he said, “Kind of, yeah.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen the platitude that home isn’t a place, it’s people, but it’s a little more complicated than that,” said Tony, “Home is something you build, Steve. And the most stable homes are built with people you care about, but either way it’s work. It’s finding the things and the people and the memories that make you happy and making them a part of your environment. It's putting care into where you live and who you spend time with. And for some lucky bastards it’s easy work, building a home. They do it without even thinking. For you and me it’s hard, but it’s not impossible, Steve. It just takes time and effort and good people to build with.”

Steve thought of his ma, and how she’d always make time to polish the furniture and help Mrs. O’Grady down the church steps and take Steve to Coney Island when she could afford it. Steve had always thought it was just her way to care like that, but Tony’s words made him think about how much she’d left behind when she came to Brooklyn. How hard it must’ve been living in a new, alien place where she didn’t even know the language at first. And how maybe, by investing a little love into her world both in the place she lived and in the connections and memories she made, she was building a home for herself too. Maybe the reason Brooklyn stopped feeling like home when she died was that Steve had thrown himself into art school and then into trying to get into the army, instead of picking up where she left off.

And Steve thought about this year - how he, without realizing, had been finding new things to make him happy through this list, while also building relationships with the team (especially Tony) as he did it. There wasn’t just the dent in the wall at the gym; there was a magnet on the fridge from the Guggenheim. There was a printout of the Buzzfeed list taped to his wall. There was someone he could talk to about things like this. He realized that the tower might not be home yet, but there was a foundation there now where there hadn’t been before. And that with more care invested in this place and the people around him, maybe with time, the rest of it would come too. It had been so hard to invest that kind of care when he was in a new city every week and when he never knew which of his reports would be going home in a wooden box the next day, but here? There was potential. Steve had the effort and the care to pour into it. He could put in the time too.

“Hey, if we’re having a sharing kind of night, can I ask you something?” said Tony.

“Go ahead,” said Steve.

Tony hesitated, then said, “Do you really think you’re a better person because you spend time with me?”

“Yeah, I do,” said Steve.

“Ok but when people usually say that they mean I’m teaching them patience for putting up with my bullshit. It sounded like you meant something else.”

Steve shrugged and said, “I don’t shut down any time someone makes a dick joke anymore. I’ve got you to thank for that.”

Tony waved his hand. “There was nothing wrong with you in the first place, Cap, so I don’t know if that counts as an improvement.”

“It makes it easier to connect to the 21st century, Tony. I’d call that an improvement,” said Steve, “And I don’t spend all my time working anymore, now I’ve got something else to do.”

“Oh man, Fury’s gonna kill me for that.”

“Just the opposite. I told him I wouldn’t be on call tonight because we were going to this thing and he told me, ‘It’s about time you joined the 21st century, Rogers. But don’t thank Tony for me, I’m still mad about that shit he pulled on Maddow.’”

Tony barked out a laugh, and said, “You imply _one_ person was making eyes at you at the company holiday party and everyone makes a fuss.”

“I think implying an anti-LGBT senator was gay was what sunk you.”

“Hey, he was the one checking me out, I was just there to double-fist some eggnog.”

Steve chuckled, then added, “I also don’t pick stupid fights with you anymore. And I think that’s my favorite improvement of all.”

“Yeah, well, most of that was my fault--”

“Shut up and take the compliment, Tony.”

Tony was quiet for a while, and when Steve looked over he could see he was back in that uncomfortable space in his head where he’d been earlier tonight when Steve had told him suck it up and enjoy the slam poetry.

“I’m sorry,” said Steve.

“Oh my God, stop _doing that_ ,” said Tony impatiently.

“Doing what?”

“You tell me to shut up and compliment me for something I don’t deserve in the same breath, and when I can’t figure out what the right response is to that, you add another confusing layer by apologizing. You did it right before we went into the poetry slam too. It’s like emotional whiplash or something.”

“Why don’t you think you deserve the compliment?”

“Because I didn’t do anything!”

“This whole list thing was your idea. And it’s working so well that it’s having unintended positive consequences. I never thought I’d have to tell _you_ this, but take some credit for your damn work, Tony.”

Tony gave Steve a curious look for a second, then he laughed.

“Fine. Operation Capsicle Listicle is now Operation Stark Lark,” said Tony.

“...I don’t know which of those names I hate more,” said Steve.

“Doesn’t matter - my idea, my name has to be on it. That’s how I roll.”

“I didn’t realize Captain America was teammates with ‘Iron Stark.’”

“That… is such a better name than Iron Man.”

“It is not, you ass.”

“Nope, too late. Texting my publicist now - she’s trademarking it as we speak. Expect a media and merchandising blitz with the new name by Memorial Day.”

“Except I came up with it, and I’m not giving you permission to use it.”

“Have your lawyers call my lawyers.”

By that point they’d reached the car, so they took a moment to get inside.

“Hey, Tony?” said Steve as the car pulled into the road.

“Yeah?”

“You’re good people to build with.”

Tony looked out the window and replied, “So are you, Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the poems mentioned are a bit of a mishmash of poems I actually got to see performed at ASL Slam, but "Homelight" was a real poem I got to see once, and I would credit the poet if I could remember his name (best I can do is say he appears at 1m20s in the video posted in the note above). And it really was that good of a poem. I still think about it sometimes.


	10. Top 10 Musicals of All Time According to Colonel Rhodes (His Favorite Will Melt Your Heart!)

“What if I pay all of the actors to get food poisoning,” said Tony.

“Ok, either way this plan sucks but I need to know,” said Rhodey, “would they just _say_ they had food poisoning, or would you pay them to actually get it?”

Rhodey was in town for a week, which meant every dinner in Tony’s calendar that week was booked. Tonight it was their favorite hole-in-the-wall ramen restaurant, which they’d sworn on pain of death never to tell anyone about so the tourists would never find it.

“If Steve’s gonna be thrown off the scent, they’d probably have to actually get it. I’ll just give them some bad kibble to eat or whatever,” said Tony.

“You know they only pretend to be cats on the stage, right? Most of them aren’t furries off-stage. Or if they are, presumably they still eat human food.”

“I presume nothing about these people,” said Tony, pointing his chopsticks at Rhodey for emphasis, “they voluntarily subject themselves to Andrew Lloyd Webber’s _Cats_ 6 days a week and twice a day on weekends. What kind of person does that, Rhodey? Can you imagine what that must _do_ to you? What you’d have to become to survive that?”

“Or, maybe--”

“ _Don’t_ ”

“--it’s a good show--”

“ _Stop_ ”

“--and Steve will like it.”

“Rhodey, it’s a good thing you’re pretty because sometimes you say very dumb things.”

“I mean, you can’t prove he _won’t_ like it,” said Rhodey as he picked up his bowl to down the last of his broth.

And Tony could _not_ say no to a challenge like _that_. So for the next 10 minutes, Tony outlined Steve’s values, aesthetics, and tastes and then systematically demonstrated how each of them was incompatible with enjoying the performance of _Cats_ they were scheduled to see in a few days. When he was finished, Rhodey had a weird sort of smile on his face.

“Wow,” he said, “You really like Steve, don’t you?”

“What? I mean, yeah, we’re friends now.”

“Oh no. You don’t info-dump like that unless you really like what you’re talking about.”

“Clearly not, since I just spent 10 minutes talking about _Cats_.”

“No, you spent 10 minutes talking about what _Steve_ would think about _Cats_ . And if you have that much to say about only his taste in musicals, you must really, _really_ like him.”

“I mean, is it a secret that I like the people I live with?”

“Ok, tell me - would Natasha like _Cats_?”

So Tony spent 5 minutes arguing how Nat’s appreciation for dance is inextricably mired in her dark past, and a comment she made at Halloween last year about how cat costumes are stupid, as well as her appreciation for simple, non-showy aesthetics would mean she also would not like _Cats_.

“Aww, you like her too,” said Rhodey, “but not as much as you like Steve. You spent twice as much time on him.”

“What? I just haven’t spent as much time with her is all.”

“Right. And you’re spending all this time with Steve because--”

“Because it was the only way to get us to stop fighting with each other. I told you about the list.”

“And is it working? Are you fighting all the time anymore?” asked Rhodey.

“Yeah, it is working. We still butt heads sometimes but about as much as the rest of us do, and it doesn’t fester like it used to.”

“Ok so, why continue then? Sounds like the job is done.”

Tony didn’t have an answer for that. So he did what he always did when he didn’t have an answer. He made shit up.

“I’m a completionist--” he started.

“ _Bullshit_ , you have 50 half-finished prototypes in your lab and another 500 in a warehouse upstate,” said Rhodey.

“I’m a completionist about this,” said Tony, “Besides, I can’t leave Steve high and dry.”

“I don’t know why you’re being weird about this,” said Rhodey as he fiddled with the ends of his chopsticks, “It’s ok to say you like spending time with the guy. Why would that be--”

Rhodey suddenly stopped playing with his chopsticks.

“Rhodey, if you’re about to imply I’ve got a crush on Captain America, I am sticking those chopsticks someplace unpleasant.”

“I never said anything,” said Rhodey.

“Good, keep not saying anything. It’s not like that.”

“Then how’s it like?”

“Like you said. I enjoy his company now. So there’s no reason not to keep doing Steve’s list.”

Rhodey looked like there was something on the tip of his tongue, but ultimately he closed his mouth and shrugged.

“Alright,” he said.

“Alright?”

“Yeah, ok. But if you’re going to be a completionist about this, that means one way or another, you’re going to have to see _Cats_. Or else you’re going to have to convince Steve to take it off his list.”

“I’ve _tried_ , Rhodey. Everything I told you about how much he’s going to hate it, Steve’s heard it. He doesn’t care. I think it’s a point of pride now.”

Tony picked up some bok choi between his chopsticks, stared pensively at it for a moment, before he said, “What if we get a cat for the tower and call it close enough?”

“We’re not getting a cat for the tower because you want to avoid seeing a play,” said Steve a few days later.

“That doesn’t have to be the main reason!” said Tony, “We can get a cat because it’s… I dunno. Do we have mice? We can get mice for the cat to eat. And by a happy coincidence, we’ve had enough proximity to cats to decide we don’t have to watch a musical about them.”

“No, Tony,” said Steve as the elevator doors opened into the garage level, “Now c’mon, we’re going to be late for the matinee.”

“Steve, please listen. I’m not saying all this because _I_ don’t like _Cats_. You have to believe me, you’re going to _hate it._ ”

“Quit whining and get in the car,” said Steve, “it’s one of the longest running musicals of all time. Millions of people have seen it. How bad can it be?”

An hour and a half later, at the intermission, all Steve could say was, “Oh. That bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No disrespect intended to fans of ALW's Cats here, but I don't think it's a surprise to anyone that neither Steve nor Tony is a fan of that particular musical.
> 
> In 2013 Cats was not running on Broadway, but I've decided the Battle for New York made it happen somehow. Some Broadway producer looked at the wreckage and said, "Y'know what the city needs, after this? A Cats revival."
> 
> I *could* to tell you which ramen place Tony and Rhodey are eating at. But I won't ;)


	11. Test Your Stark Smarts! Who Invented It: Tony or Howard?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Howard Stark's A+ parenting and husbanding (specifically: verbal abuse, emotional neglect)

“Oh man, can’t wait to get back to _that_ ,” said Tony.

“Just call the damn car, Tony, we can meet it up the block,” said Steve.

They were leaving at intermission. Steve had been more than ready to laugh off a poor recommendation on the list with Tony on the way out the door, but Tony was doing some kind of extended joke pretending he loved it and wanted to see the second half of the show, just to rub it in Steve’s face how wrong he’d been on insisting they come. And if it had ever been funny when it started, it definitely wasn’t now as they were walking up the block away from the theater.

“I still can’t believe you want to leave. After only an hour of people in spandex pretending to lick their own butt holes? You can go if you want, but that’s totally my fetish, so--”

“I get it, Tony. We shouldn’t have come,” said Steve, as he fought the anger rising in his gut.

“We can’t leave now. Not when act 1 ended with such a cliffhanger. _Will there be more cats?_ I’m at the edge of my seat over here.”

“Oh hi, asshole Tony, haven’t seen you in a while. Could you go get the Tony I was starting to like and tell him to call the damn car?”

“Steve, I don’t know why you’re doubting my sincerity here. We’ve been hanging out regularly for four months now, and you can’t see how crazy I am about--”

“Just call the fucking car, Tony!” Steve said a little too loudly.

“Oh hi, asshole Steve, glad to see you’re here too. Could you go get the Steve that actually listens to me, because I just said I wanted to go see the rest of the play.”

“Tony, I don’t know why you’re pretending you enjoyed that any more than I did, but if you could just--”

Steve stopped. Because he realized he knew Tony better than this. Tony didn’t pick fights unless he had a goal to accomplish or a point to prove and Steve had already conceded the play was bad and they shouldn’t have come, so why was he picking this one? He seemed pretty determined to get Steve to say out loud that he knew Tony didn’t like the play because they knew each other well enough by now to-- _oh._

“I really hurt your feelings, didn’t I?” said Steve.

Tony’s whole body flinched, but then almost immediately there was _fury_ in his eyes.

“ _Go to hell, Steve_ ,” spat Tony as he broke off at a brisk pace down the avenue.

“Tony, I’m sorry,” said Steve, who was practically jogging to keep up, “I messed up, and I’m sorry.”

Tony said nothing, which was the biggest testament to how badly Steve had screwed up.

“Please call the car so we can talk privately. I want to fix this,” Steve pleaded.

“ _You want to fix this!_ _?_ ” shouted Tony almost shrilly, finally stopping and staring Steve down, “Because that’s what _I’m_ trying to do. That’s why I’m here, for fuck’s sake. But we’re not going to fix _shit_ if you don’t start trusting that sometimes, I know what the fuck I’m talking about, Steve. And now we’re fighting so loud that the guy on my left just stared straight through my SEP, so how about we part ways to scream into some pillows and call today a catastrophic failure. No! Pun! Intended!”

Steve looked, and Tony was right - someone was staring. He didn’t have his phone out yet, but it was only a matter of time.

“How soon can the car get here?” said Steve.

“Not soon enough,” said Tony, who walked out into the street and hailed a cab.

“Avengers Tower,” said Tony to the driver.

Steve got in behind him. “No, go south,” he said.

Tony glared at Steve. “Oh we’re doing sightseeing? Because that’s just what I need right now.”

“We’re going to the High Line,” said Steve, “Because it’s a beautiful day, and I want to take a walk with my best friend.”

And that, finally, got Tony to stop firing back.

They sat in tense silence for a moment or two, before Tony said, “If you think you’re going to wait me out for an apology, you’ve got another think coming.”

“No, Tony. I’m not-- I just need a little bit of time to get my thoughts together, I’m not trying to compel you into saying anything. Go do whatever it is you do on your phone for a bit - by the time we get there I’ll know what I want to say.”

That seemed to work for Tony, who immediately took out his phone and started adjusting figures in some kind of complicated formula on the screen. They stayed in silence like that until the cab dropped them off at the south end of the High Line. It really was a beautiful April day, and the elevated park was full of pedestrians enjoying the warm weather and the bright sun and the flush of spring in the flowerbeds that lined the path to either side of them. 

_Tread carefully, don’t trample the new shoots_ , a sign said, and if anyone doubted God’s sense of humor Steve sure didn’t.

“I think there are some things going on that I don’t understand,” said Steve finally, “but let me address the ones that I do first. I should’ve listened to you when you said we shouldn’t go."

"Right church, now go find the right pew," said Tony.

Steve continued, "I’ve already trusted you with having my back on missions, and I’ve trusted you enough to talk about… me stuff. But I also need to trust your judgement and your experience.”

“I want you to trust that sometimes I know what you’re signing up for better than you do, Steve,” said Tony, “And that I know _you_. If you can’t trust me when the stakes are this low--”

“--it could be a problem when the stakes are high,” finished Steve, “I-- I think it’s just that I don’t know _you_ , Tony. Not like that. I couldn’t pick a play you would like. The only time I ever tried to call your taste was when I told you to go look at your dad’s Eschers at the museum, and we know how that turned out. I don’t even know why I set you off when I said I hurt--”

“Howard again,” said Tony.

Steve looked at Tony, who was staring hard straight ahead. Tony looked like he was willing the tenseness in his posture away inch by inch, until he could finally say, “That was his favorite line. ‘Oh, did I _hurt_ your little _feelings_ , Tony?’ ‘No one gives a damn about your _hurt feelings_ , Maria.’ Any time either of us called him on his bullshit. Any time mom cried. Because if there was one immutable fact of the universe it was that Howard Stark was right about literally everything, and everyone around him needed to put away their hurt feelings and accept it.”

“Christ,” said Steve, “I didn’t--”

“How could you know? You’ve been spilling your guts to me about the USO and your mom and how hard you’re trying to find home again, because you’re a fundamentally trusting, caring person Steve. You’re what we all wish we could be. And me, I’m a damned coward who can tell you everything you want to know about my robots or my sex life, but nothing that actually might tell you something about me. Like dear old dad.”

Steve thought about all the times Howard had talked over everyone in the room, and they’d all let him because he was usually going somewhere brilliant. What must it have been like to _live_ with that?

As if he was hearing Steve’s thoughts, Tony said, “Of course the people who didn’t live with him could take it all in stride. Price of dealing with a genius, y’know? Had to think he wasn’t just right about his projects, he was right about his politics and his prejudices and what everyone wanted to do for the Christmas party or whatever other bullshit Howard had an opinion on that day. ‘Of course I’m not going to the ballet with you, Maria, because I think it’s boring, and my opinion is the one that matters. Ask Tony - yes he took you the last dozen times, but I don’t think that’s important, which means it’s not. Go deal with your hurt feelings somewhere else, I’ve got welding to do.’ And the irony here isn’t lost on me, Steve. I know I just lost my shit because you wouldn’t accept my opinion as a fact. I'm sorry. Something about you really brings out the Howard in me.”

“Tony, I will say this as many times as you need to hear it. You are nothing like your dad.”

“God, wouldn’t it be great if that were true, Steve?” said Tony, and there was so much _bitterness_ in his voice, “But the data’s all there. We talk alike and we think alike and we both act like assholes to the good people around us who don’t deserve it.”

“You want proof?” said Steve, “Alright, Tony. Would Howard have gone to the play with me today?”

Tony was quiet, so Steve pressed on.

“Would Howard have gone with me to that poetry slam? Would he have stayed in a wing of a museum that made him upset because I had to draw a picture of a painting that _also_ made him upset? For 30 minutes? Would he have taken Maria to the ballet even though he thought it was boring because he wanted to make her happy? You literally just answered that one.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” said Tony.

“The hell it doesn’t,” said Steve, “You show up, Tony. Half of caring about other people is showing up. The other half is paying attention and… Christ, you pay more attention than anyone I’ve ever known. I think that’s why we couldn’t be friends for so long - I hated how easy it was for you to see straight through me. At the helicarrier, I’d barely learned your name and you were already picking on my biggest insecurities. I can’t hide anything from you.”

“It’s wild you said that,” said Tony, “because if I had to pick one time I couldn’t look past my own bullshit to see what was right in front of me, that’s the example I’d pick. The way he used to talk about you, Steve - all I could think was he had to be making it up. There’s no way anyone could be that decent _all the time._ And then there you were, proving him right. And it-- I had to try to prove him wrong. Which meant turning into Howard again - ignoring anything that contradicted my own little pet reality. We weren’t friends because of my bullshit, not yours.”

“And yet,” said Steve, “you came up with a plan to meet each other half-way. Do you think Howard would have done that either?”

And Tony was quiet again.

“You may have gotten Howard’s penchant for tinkering and talking sass, but when I say you’re nothing like him I mean in the ways that matter. You listen to other people. You make time for the ones who’re close to you. And most of all, you care. About Maria, about the team, about your work and the impact it has. You care so deeply about so much _,_ and it’s not just in your head, Tony. It’s in the work you do and the people you save and the way you show up and pay attention, like you did today. You’re such a good man, Tony, and I’m so honored to be your friend.”

Tony was looking away from him over the side of the High Line, and Steve now knew that meant he needed a second to process what he was feeling in private. Then it stretched on for much longer than it usually took, and Steve heard Tony take a deep sniff that had nothing to do with the flowers around them.

“Tony, I’m going to touch your shoulder,” said Steve. They stopped walking, and Tony didn’t shrug him off or make a quip. So Steve gently pulled him in for an embrace.

Everything went still. The world around them continued to churn with the cars under the park and the people milling around them and the conversations and the coffee orders and the million other moving pieces of the city. But there was a space as large as the two of them where there was only the sound of their breath and the sensation of being close. Tony burrowed his face in Steve’s jacket and Steve wrapped him in his arms, his thumb brushing over the back of Tony’s neck until Tony’s breath stopped hitching and his eyes stopped leaving damp spots on Steve’s shirt. And in that space, in those couple of minutes before they continued together to the end of the High Line, it felt… right. Like the most natural place in the universe for Steve to be was with Tony, holding him close.

It felt like coming home.


	12. Feeling Thirsty? Pick Your Favorite Beverages and We’ll Tell You Which Avenger You Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Wicked ahead! Sorry, they're kind of unavoidable and I can't really tell you how to skip over them if you want to keep reading.
> 
> I found out a third of the High Line was technically still under construction in 2013, but I'm hand-wavin' it. In the MCU, construction finished earlier, because, idk, stuff happened. And it really is a lovely place to amble in the city. Highly recommend googling some pictures of it if you want to get a sense of it, as Steve and Tony go together to the end of the line, because I'm subtle like that.

“I cannot believe the biggest fight we ever had was over a musical about cats,” said Tony, “In fact I refuse to believe it. If anyone asks, we saw _Rent_ and you rooted for AIDS.”

They’d walked all the way from the bottom of the High Line to the top. It was still a beautiful day, but the sun was getting lower and the crowd was thinning out as people started splitting off to either go home or go find a restaurant for dinner.

“One, absolutely not. Two, it’d have to be something we’ve both seen for it to be convincing,” said Steve.

“Good point,” said Tony, taking out his phone, “Jarvis? Book me and Steve box seats for _Wicked_ tonight.”

“Do you really want to--”

“The list said see a new Broadway musical. You have seen point five new Broadway musicals. And I think you’re gonna like this one.”

That was a lie. Tony didn’t think it; he was sure of it. Just as sure as he was when he’d tried to talk Steve out of _Cats_.

“You don’t have to do that for me, Tony.”

“We don’t have to do any of this, Steve. We’re doing it because we want to spend time together. Unless you want to go back to the tower now.”

Steve grinned. “Nah, I’m in if you are. But can we get some food first? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, me too. J, call Porchlight, let’em know we’re coming, and that Steve counts as a party of 8.”

They made their way over to 11th Avenue, and Tony saw Steve deflate slightly when he noticed they were walking into a bar.

“Don’t worry, cupcake, we’re not here for the booze. A couple of years ago Rhodey and I experimented with dry January and this place literally saved my life.”

They sat in a booth near the corner and Tony felt a flash of triumph when Steve took a sip of the house-made cherry soda and his eyes bugged out of his head.

“Oh my _God_ ,” he said quietly.

“Right?” said Tony.

“Can I get a faucet of this in the tower? I’d sacrifice my bathroom sink for it if it means I get to drink this every day. I can learn to shave with cherry soda.”

“I’ve asked, they said they won’t sell it outside the restaurant. And I offered them more money than half the cars in my garage cost. Combined.”

“What if we say it’s for important Avengers business?”

“What do you take me for? Of course I tried the IAB card. They won’t budge.”

“What if I tell them it’s their patriotic duty or something? I might be able to get the president on board. He owes me a favor.”

“I like the way you think, Rogers.”

Steve tried and loved every house soda they had, and then after they’d eaten their fill it was time to head over to _Wicked_. And of course, it went over exactly as well as Tony knew it would. They were elbowing each other in the ribs during “Loathing,” and Steve got a dopey grin on his face during “For Good”. And Tony wasn’t really a musicals guy, but he could definitely get on board the watching-Steve-watch-musicals train. They should go see _The Producers_ some other time - Steve would get a kick out of it. Tony was certain of it.

“That… was amazing,” said Steve as they walked out of the theater. “I actually cannot believe that people know this show exists and then voluntarily buy tickets to see _Cats_.”

“I don’t get it either. But now, Steve, we have an important question to settle.”

“What’s that?”

“Which of us is the Glinda and which of us is the Elphaba?”

Steve chuckled. “One of them _literally_ has her body changed and her abilities enhanced by a magic potion and you need to ask which one I think I am?”

“But you’re blonde! That counts for something.”

“Sorry, Tony. I’m the one defying gravity in this relationship.” Then Steve drew his head back and squinted at Tony and said, “I don’t think you’re Glinda, though.”

“You-- no. You are not going to cast me as one of the _literal villains_ , just because he’s the tin man and I’m the Iron Man.”

“I wasn’t going to say him, Tony.”

“Oh my God, the _wizard_? I know we’ve got the same ego but he’s the biggest villain!”

“ _No_ , Tony. You’re the scarecrow-- what was his name? Fiyero? Playboy changes his life when he starts trying to fight for what’s right - ring any bells?”

“...that is a surprisingly incisive analysis, Rogers.”

“I know you too, Tony,” said Steve with a smug little smile, “Not as well as you know me, but I’m catching up.”

Hours later, as Tony was welding a new chestplate in the lab, he realized that particular casting had… romantic implications.

_Don’t even go there Stark._ _That way lies madness,_ thought Tony, as he pushed the thought as far to the back of his mind as he possibly could. Which was funny, because Tony didn’t really have a back of his mind, so of course he was going to think about it.

He and Steve had reached a sort of equilibrium. A place where instead of fighting, they could talk about the things that bothered them and, if they were feeling particularly maudlin, maybe even cry a little about them. And of course now that Tony’s brain wasn’t swimming in a chemical vat of complicated emotions and the onslaught of sensation that was Steve’s scent and his warmth and his breath and… well, now Tony was back in his lab, all he could feel was the mortification of hindsight that he’d actually been crying hard enough in public for a co-worker to give him a hug. Ok, _friend,_ they were friends now. And Steve crying in front of Tony at the poetry slam meant they were technically even. Anyway, they’d hung out enough to get to somewhere that was comfortable, where there was mutual respect and safety instead of animus and possible danger. And Tony knew now that even if one of them started acting like an idiot again (like by throwing a hissy fit over a musical about cats), they’d built up enough trust that they could work their way back to that equilibrium.

There was no such assurance if Tony asked Steve out. First, Steve was almost certainly straight, but even if they lived in the hypothetical, made-up, happy-land universe where a hard enough crush on a straight boy made him like you back, a relationship with Steve was a bad idea. Tony had plenty of exes who hated him and he hated them right back. There was so much more at stake here than there’d been with Pepper, too. The Avengers were at the other end of the Big Red Phone on every world leader’s desk. People depended on them. That had been the reason they’d started this whole project in the first place - the Avengers needed stability, and two of its members constantly taking potshots at each other undermined that stability and created a potential for danger. Tony would be damned if he took all the work they had done to get where they are and threw it out the window because Steve was… kind. And earnest. And fucking _hot,_ Jesus Christ that _jawline--_

Tony turned off the torch and headed toward the couch in the lab, which was really his bed far more so than the one in the room next door with the closets that contained his clothes. If there was one universal constant in Tony’s fancies it was that they were passing, so he’d just have to wait this one out. Tony was trying on a lot of new virtues since he’d been spending time with Steve: understanding, communication, mutual respect… and now, he was going to try patience.

_I will not blink first, you stupid crush_ , thought Tony as he drifted off to sleep, _I will not let you ruin what I have with Steve. He’s too important to me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porchlight is a real place, and their house sodas really are that good, as are their house cocktails (although both are on the pricey side, so it's a rare treat thing). I really, really hope they're still around after this Covid crap blows over. https://www.porchlightbar.com/


	13. Who Said It: Steve Rogers, or Someone in the Rocky Horror Picture Show?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got it in my head to see how many quotes from The Rocky Horror Picture Show I could hide in this chapter and once I started I couldn't stop. See how many you can spot ;)

May got consumed by more Avengers business. Some guy calling himself Dr. Doom showed up in London with a robot army, and he successfully took over the city for a bit. Ousting him took some careful planning, some creative application of Thor’s lightning, a lot of punches into solid metal, and then another couple of weeks of clean up and tracking down escaped Doom bots. But as soon as they finished and came back to New York, Tony had to fly to California for a few weeks of what he called “the annual corporate bullshit.” And Steve tried to throw himself into his work in Tony’s absence, but something had shifted in his life. The time he’d spent with Tony had felt so unbelievably _right_ in a way nothing had in a very long time. And now, here, without Tony, it felt so unbelievably _wrong_. He missed going out to dinner with him and making fun of him and sitting next to him at shows and poetry slams. He wanted to laugh at his jokes and hold him when he was upset and… maybe also when he wasn’t upset. And…

The familiar limits of Steve’s imagination asserted themselves. Tony might make it on every “10 Celebrities You Didn’t Know Were Bisexual” list on the internet, but fate had dealt Steve a different hand. He liked girls. Well, he liked specific girls - a certain one with a gorgeous smile and a mean right hook that he’d never gotten the chance to take dancing came to mind. He had a long and beautiful friendship to look forward to with Tony, and he was grateful for that. But sometimes, when he remembered the way Tony’s hair had felt under his fingers when he was holding him close on the High Line, or the curve of Tony’s mouth when he was trying not to laugh at something Steve said, or the warmth of Tony’s callused hand covering his at the poetry slam, Steve really, really wished things were different. That his own name could be on those lists too. But Steve hadn’t been born that way. That wasn’t him. Eventually everything would work out the way it was supposed to, but in the meantime Steve would just have to make peace with the fact that he wasn’t queer, no matter how much he wished he could be.

“If you’d told me back in January that you two would go from spitting like cats whenever you were in the same room, to pacing like a caged animal whenever you weren’t, I’d’ve checked you into the hospital floor for a mental eval,” said Bruce.

Steve stopped pacing. Tony was coming back today. He’d promised to come into the common room first thing. He’d be there any minute.

“I know. Weird way to get a new best friend, huh?” said Steve with a grin.

“Oh is that what you are?” said Bruce, as he took a sip of his coffee.

“Is that what who is?” said a familiar voice.

Steve turned, and there was Tony. The second Steve saw him he was walking over, and the next thing he knew they were hugging, and it was like everything was right in the universe again.

“I missed you,” said Steve.

“Missed you too,” said Tony.

Bruce gave a pointed cough.

“Bruce!” said Tony, disentangling himself to walk over and clap Bruce on the shoulder. “Good to see you too, man.”

Tony turned back toward Steve and said, “And I’m back in time for Pride! I know we missed a lot of it this month, but there’s a drag show on Friday we could--”

“Tony,” said Bruce, sounding scandalized, “Don’t tell me you _forgot_.”

Tony turned toward Bruce, and the two of them had an entire conversation with only their facial expressions and body language (Steve really needed to get a PhD in something), before Tony said, “Steve, could you please tell Bruce that you’re perfectly happy going to a drag show, and they can all wait till next year?”

“Wait till next year for what?” said Nat as she came into the kitchen.

“Got me,” said Steve, “Tony and Bruce are talking with their eyebrows again.”

“Oooh, I think I know what this is about,” said Nat as she picked an apple out of the fruit bowl, took a bite, then used it to point at Tony, “You’re trying to get out of Rocky Horror, aren’t you?”

“We can talk about it later,” said Tony evasively.

“Steve, this is about something that happened before you and Tony were friends, and he feels bad about it because originally you weren’t going to be invited,” said Natasha.

“Because I thought he’d hate it!” said Tony quickly.

“Because you’d spend the night _bickering_ ,” said Natasha, “But that’s not a problem anymore, so you’re absolutely welcome to come.”

“Come to what?” said Steve.

“The special Pride performance of _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_!” said Clint.

Steve had noticed that a certain critical mass of Avengers talking to each other in any part of the tower seemed to assemble the others somehow. Clint had just popped his head in from the hallway and, within less than a second, Thor was bounding over from the video game room across the way.

“Yes, of course!” Thor boomed, “Jane and I enjoyed this fine exercise of Dionysian excess together, and I would be honored to partake in the experience again with my dearest friends!”

“We made a pact last year that we’d all go together,” said Bruce, “Tony’s the one who suggested the Pride show, since they do some fun extra stuff that night. And their last one this year is on Friday, which means it’s now or never.”

“Not _never_ ,” said Tony, wringing his hands, “We don’t have to go _this_ year.”

“Why not? We’ve already got our costumes,” said Clint.

“Costumes?” said Steve.

“Yes!” said Thor, “Don’t worry, Steve, you can use mine.”

Bruce snorted into his coffee as Tony said, “Steve is _not_ going as Rocky for his first time.”

“But we are going, right?” said Clint, “I had Jarvis call ahead and get them to caption the movie, and I’m going to feel like a huge dick if they did that and I’m not there.”

Tony looked at Steve and there was deep uncertainty in his face.

“Tony, is this more _Cats_?” asked Steve.

“No,” said Tony, “Uncharted territory. Closest thing we’ve done is sharing stories about socks and ice cream trucks.”

“And you all complain you can’t understand when me and Tony talk?” said Bruce.

Steve looked around and saw that everyone was looking at him, practically shivering with antici--

“Yeah. Yeah, ok,” said Tony.

“What?” said Steve.

Tony turned his whole body toward Steve and said, confidently, “We should go. You should come.”

And Steve didn’t hesitate when he replied, “Alright, let’s do it.”

Two days and one rush costume order later, Steve was waiting in the common room wearing fake glasses, grey slacks and a brown jacket, and feeling like he was going to hurl. He’d caught up a bit on what he was in for - according to the internet, _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ was an really bizarre movie that had morphed into a sort of performance art piece, featuring performers and props and very lewd jokes for audience members to call out through the course of the movie.

But it wasn’t the lewd jokes that were driving Steve’s anxiety - it was the “virgin sacrifice.” Before each show, people who hadn’t seen the movie before were picked out of the audience, brought up to the front of the theater, and then made to do embarrassing activities ranging from wearing a condom as a hat to dry humping a total stranger. And Steve wanted nothing more than to fake some last-minute Shield emergency, but… Tony had asked him to come.

“You ok, Steve?” said Bruce as he came down the stairs from his floor. He was wearing a leather jacket, pants with chains on them, cowboy boots and a fake bloody gouge across his forehead.

In lieu of answering, Steve said, “Where’s everyone else?”

“Tony’s a perfectionist about his costumes, so he might be a bit. The rest of them are probably pre-gaming in the kitchen. Hey that reminds me - Thor brought some Asgardian booze he swore could get even you buzzed and I just finished testing it to confirm it won’t kill you. Wanna come up to the lab? You look like you could use it.”

Before Steve could say anything, the elevator dinged and Nat, Clint, and Thor walked out, all slightly flushed with alcohol. Nat had frizzy hair and was wearing a maid’s costume with fishnets, and Clint had on a bald cap and a red-stained suit. And after doing a double take, Steve saw Thor wasn’t naked like he’d originally thought, but he was wearing nothing but a shiny gold pair of briefs and gold-colored sneakers.

“Friends!” shouted Thor when he saw Steve and Bruce, “Drink with us! The night is young and you are far too sober!”

“I’m gonna pass,” said Bruce, “I don’t think we should risk the other guy showing up tonight.”

“Why not? I think he’d like the movie too,” said Tony’s voice.

Steve turned and--

_Holy shit._

Tony was wearing a wig, a full face of makeup, a corset, fishnets, and glittery, strappy black heels. And Steve immediately got the deepest blush of his entire life not only because Tony was looking like _that_ , but because there was an extremely confused erection building in Steve’s pants. Thank God he was standing behind a couch; he did not want Tony to see him like this.

“Ready?” said Tony.

“Hang on,” said Steve as he took off his jacket to drape over his arm so it covered his crotch.

“Slowly, slowly, it’s too nice a job to rush,” said Tony with a wiggle of his eyebrows, which made Steve blush (and get) harder.

“This costume’s warm for June,” Steve mumbled.

“The heat’s in your face, not the room, Steve” signed Clint.

“Shut up, Clint,” Steve signed right back.

They took a picture for posterity, piled into the elevator, then crammed into a car to the movie theater. Steve said nothing and focused on breathing steadily, but he could feel his anxiety building as they got closer to the theater. Once they were in line waiting for the theater to open, he felt Tony nudge his elbow.

“If you’re going to puke, try not to get it on my Jimmy Choos,” said Tony.

Steve sighed and said, “I’m sorry. I-- it’s not the costumes or the movie. It’s--”

“Somebody told you about the virgin sacrifice, didn’t they?” said Tony.

Steve briefly wondered if he was as much of an open book to everyone or just to Tony, but he decided he didn’t care and nodded. To his relief, Tony didn’t laugh. He just said, “Steve, didn’t you tell me I couldn’t keep you someplace you didn’t want to be? You could play along for now and pull out the aces when the time is right and someone tries to make you do something you don’t want to do. Or you can just duck out now. This is all pretty far outside your comfort zone; no one here would blame you.”

“You told me to come tonight, Tony,” said Steve as he looked down at the floor, “And I trust that you know me, and that you know what I’m getting into better than I do. So I’m staying.”

There was quiet for a second, then Steve felt Tony’s hand on his shoulder. Steve looked up and Tony was looking at him earnestly with warm brown eyes. And it was like the entire universe shrank down to the two of them.

“It’s alright, Steve. Everything’s going to be alright,” said Tony.

Steve felt the tension he’d been holding in his gut turn into… something else. Something that had nothing to do with whatever he’d been worried about 5 seconds ago and everything to do with how Tony’s hand felt on his body and how soft Tony’s lips looked under all that makeup. Steve would’ve traded everything he owned right then to put his own hand on Tony’s cheek, and shrink down the universe even further, until there was nothing between them at all. But that wasn’t him. That wasn’t them. It never could be. So all Steve could do was look at Tony and _wish_.

“Hey, Tony?” said Bruce, who was standing ahead of them, “Oh! Um…”

“What is it, Bruce?” said Tony, breaking his gaze and removing his hand.

“It’s nothing, I was just wondering why everyone trying to take creepshots of us is swearing at their phones right now.”

Steve looked around and saw Bruce was right. Half the people in line had their phones pointed at them, but they were also looking really, really frustrated.

“We should’ve worn SEPs,” said Steve.

“Where was Thor gonna put his, in his butt? And don’t worry about it, Bruce, it’s just a little temporary malware update to Starkphones in vicinity,” said Tony. Then he turned toward the bulk of the people taking pictures and said, “Hey! Stop taking creepshots and leave us be, and maybe after the movie we’ll let you take some pictures that don’t blur our faces.”

The crowd grumbled in embarrassment and frustration as they put their phones away, then Tony said, “I need to go touch up my makeup, I’ll meet up with you inside.”

In the end, Steve didn’t need to worry - the picker skipped right over him and called up Clint instead. Then when Steve got to watch Clint fake the most dramatic, ridiculous orgasm in the history of faked orgasms, all he could do was laugh. Half of it was because Clint was hilarious, and the other half was slightly hysterical relief, because Steve was pretty sure if he’d had to do the same thing he would’ve burst into flames.

Then the movie started and it was a lot more fun than Steve expected. The film itself was a weird mix of complete nonsense and pieces that resonated strangely with Steve, and the shadow cast (gender-swapped for Pride) was full of 20-somethings happy to ham it up in feather boas and high heels for maximum ludicrous sensuality. Tony knew all the callbacks by heart plus a few of his own invention, and the movie ended with Steve blushing more from laughter than embarrassment. It was definitely one of the more bizarre experiences of his life, but Steve really enjoyed himself.

After the show they took a few pictures and signed a few autographs with some of the fans in the crowd, then Tony started gabbing with the cast. He was clearly in his element here, talking shop on the finer details of their costumes and swapping stories about the shows he’d seen and the people in the movie he’d met personally.

“We’re going to be here until next Pride, aren’t we,” said Nat with a yawn.

“You all take the car back, I’ll wait for Tony,” said Steve.

So they left, and Steve picked a seat where he could watch Tony, still in his costume, chatting with a couple other guys in lingerie like it was the most normal thing in the world. And the pane of glass between Steve and his environment was back, but this time instead of watching passively through it he was pressing his nose against it, longing to come in. Wishing he could stand comfortably next to Tony as he schmoozed and cracked jokes and be in it with him. His arm around Tony’s back, feeling him pressed against his side while Steve’s fingers trailed down his bare shoulder and…

“You should ask him out, honey.”

Steve jumped and looked to his right. The actress who’d played Dr. Frankenfurter was in jeans and a tee shirt now, but she still had her makeup on, and she was leaning over the seat next to him with her elbows propped on top of it. She was a bit older than most of the cast, and was definitely one of the more talented performers of the bunch.

“Uh, hi. That was a great show,” said Steve.

“Thank you,” she said. Then she walked around the edge of the aisle to sit down next to Steve and continued, “If you’re worried I’m going to tell anyone, I won’t. I remember what it’s like, being a baby gay and pining for someone you were sure you couldn’t have. But I think you could have this one, honey. I don’t think he’d’ve offered to pay off my student loan debt to spare you the virgin sacrifice unless he was at least a _little_ interested.”

Steve looked back and forth between her and Tony, and felt a strange mix of indignance that Tony had done that without telling him and _immense_ gratitude that Tony was there to have his back.

“Don’t worry, honey, I turned him down. We don’t pick anyone under 18 or over 80. Too awkward.”

“I thought that was the point,” said Steve.

“No, sugar, the point is to help the new people make a space for themselves here. Can’t say you don’t belong if you had to go through baptism by fire to get in, can you? But we’re getting off topic. Why haven’t you asked your friend out yet, sweetheart?”

Steve set his jaw and looked back at the front of the theater. “I can’t. I’m not gay,” he said.

“Is that so? This is platonic pining I’m seeing here?”

“Look-- what’s your name?”

She smirked, “I’m just a friendly stranger tonight, sweetie, but if it helps you can call me Frank.”

“Frank, I know you’re trying to be nice, but that’s not in the cards for me. I like girls.”

“You know there’s more letters in LGBT than L and G, right? We added a plus and everything,” said Frank.

“Yeah, but that’s not me. I wish it was, but it’s not.”

“What do you mean you wish it was?” she asked.

“Just what I said. I wish I did like guys. If I did I--” Steve felt the longing start to choke his words. “I just can’t, ok? I wasn’t born that way.”

Frank tapped her chin. “If I had a magic wand that could make you queer, would you want to use it?”

Steve scoffed, but Frank raised her eyebrows to indicate she was serious.

“Um… yeah. Yeah, I would,” said Steve quietly.

Frank reached next to her and picked up a mannequin leg in fishnet stockings they’d used as a prop earlier in the night. Then she waved it over Steve’s head.

“Abracadabra, baby. Welcome to the club. Bisexuals sit at the table with the pink, purple and blue stripes,” said Frank.

Steve shook his head.

“How many girls have you liked, sweetheart?” said Frank.

“Enough,” said Steve.

“Give me a number,” said Frank.

So Steve thought about it, then surprised himself when he said, “One. But I really did like her.”

“Interesting,” Frank said, like she was deep in thought, and then she added, “and I’ll bet you were good friends with her first, weren’t you?”

“Why does that matter?”

“Honey, when you get home, I want you to google ‘demisexual.’ You got that? Need me to write it down?”

“Uh, why--”

“Hold on, sweetie, I’ve got a point to make,” she said as she shifted to face him more directly, “You don’t like _every_ girl, right? But you know you’ve got the capacity if a good one crosses your path. Have you considered that you don’t have to like _every_ boy to like _that_ one?”

And Steve hadn’t considered that.

“You don’t have to wait for your queer card to come in the mail, sugar. If you’re dreaming it, you’re already being it,” said Frank. Then she winked, got up, and walked away.

Tony came over to find Steve a few minutes later. “Ready?” he asked.

“Think so,” said Steve as they walked out of the theater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--pation
> 
> Before the pandemic, The Rocky Horror Picture Show played every Friday and Saturday at Cinepolis Chelsea. Their Pride shows are actually usually single-sex (mostly - their nonbinary cast members also perform in both shows), not gender-swapped. They also do special shows for April Fools, Valentine's day, Christmas and Halloween. Part of the reason it took me so long to upload this chapter is because these shows are by far the biggest thing I've missed since the pandemic started, and I wanted to get the details right for something I love and miss so much.
> 
> I can't send the spirit of Rocky Horror to every baby queer figuring it out, but I'm glad I can send it to a fictional one. And to folks reading this - one of the biggest symptoms of being queer is wishing you were. So if Steve's experience spoke to you, don't dream it, be it <3


	14. 9 Reasons Why Lesbians Love Thor

“I cannot believe you didn’t get a float for us. Who even are you?” said Clint.

It was early in the morning the Sunday after Rocky Horror and they were gathering in the living room, getting ready to take their place to march in the Pride parade. Clint had to go back to his floor of the tower to get more comfortable shoes because he’d assumed, incorrectly, that Tony had commissioned a float for them to ride in.

“Clint, honey, if you’re really that upset I’m sure I can rustle up one of those little red wagons somewhere, and we can pull you behind us,” said Tony.

“Only if you’re pulling him, I’m not going to do it,” said Steve.

“Oh, well I’m definitely not. Nat?” said Tony.

“I’ve been pulling Clint’s weight for years, he can pull himself,” said Nat with a sly grin.

“Thor? What about you?”

“Why can’t I be the one to ride in the wagon?” Thor joked. He was wearing a lesbian pride flag like a cape that a “group of magnificent shield maidens” had given him to wear today, because “lesbians for Thor” was definitely a thing and Thor was more than happy to enthusiastically embrace every kind of new Midgardian friend, especially ones that shared his appreciation for good-looking women without being creeps.

“And now I need to put the kibosh on the wagon idea,” said Tony, “Sorry, Clint, I can’t play favorites between my kids, you understand.”

“ _Mom_ would let me have a wagon,” Clint pouted, “Or a _float_.”

The reason Tony hadn’t gotten a float was simple: if they walked, they’d be marching. If they rode on a float, they’d be performing. And Steve didn’t like to perform.

“Ooh, almost forgot,” said Tony, as he rushed off to the other room and fished a box out of the mail pile, then came back and dumped its contents on the common room coffee table. Inside were pins with the stripes of different pride flags on them.

“Tony, if you’re about to tell us you’re every single letter of LGBT+… I will support you all the way, but I will also have some questions,” said Bruce over his cereal bowl. Bruce and highly-stimulating, crowded, unpredictable environments didn’t mesh well so he’d be sitting this one out, but he’d been nice enough to wake up early and see them off in his pajamas.

“The maker only sells them in bulk, but she’s the only one that gets the colors to pop _and_ puts a pin and a magnet on the back so you can pick which one won’t ruin your shirt,” said Tony. He finally found a bisexual pride flag button and he pinned it to his shirt front. Then he said, “Hang on - this isn’t a surprise to any of you, right?”

Everyone chuckled a bit, then Nat said, “No, Tony, it’s not.”

“Pretty sure you were flirting with all of us before you even learned our names,” said Clint.

“In my defense, you’re all extremely hot,” said Tony. Then, as casually as he could, he added, “Anyway, if the rest of you want any, help yourselves.”

To Tony’s surprise, it was Clint who took the bait first.

“Man, you’ve got everything in here,” said Clint, as he pulled out a button with yellow, pink, white, grey, and black stripes.

“Do you really wanna spend the next year explaining to every late night host what a QPR is?” said Nat.

“Good point, but I was going to button it on the inside of my shirt,” said Clint.

Nat seemed like she was considering something for a moment, then she reached into the pile and got a matching QPR button, plus an asexuality pride button, and pinned both facing the inside of her shirt.

“I know this probably doesn’t need to be said,” said Nat, looking around the room, “but I’d prefer if you all didn’t share this. I’d rather not spend the rest of my life castrating horny fan-boys trying to fix me with their magic dicks.”

And yeah, Tony’s intention might have been to confirm some of his suspicions about his teammates and stop being the only out Avenger, but he could live with that. Then Thor was standing behind Clint and Nat and in another second he had them both wrapped in a joint-cracking hug.

“I have no idea what any of these mean, but I’m proud to stand with you,” said Thor, which was when Tony realized his cunning scheme had a Thor-sized hole in it. Technically a Steve-sized one too, not that it mattered in his case.

“Yeah, you remain the coolest and most bad-ass of us all,” said Bruce through a mouthful of cereal. Then Tony remembered Bruce wouldn’t be taking a pin if he wasn’t marching, so really his bait was only good for Nat and Clint. Ah well - still a decent haul for a scheme he’d hatched on a whim yesterday.

Nat gave a small smile as she extricated herself from Thor, then said, “Thank you. And if any of you make any ‘ace up your sleeve’ quips, I’m killing you in your sleep.”

“Are all ace jokes off the table or just that one? I can think of a few I wouldn’t mind dying in my sleep for,” said Tony, as he led everyone away from the common room and toward the elevator bank.

Then Steve said, “Wait.”

He ran back to the table, rummaged through the buttons, and came back with two of them pinned to the inside of his shirt.

“It’s not that I don’t, um, trust you all,” said Steve, “It’s just… this is new to me. I need time.”

Thor put his arm around Steve’s shoulders in another joint-cracking side-hug. “When you’re ready, Steve,” Thor said.

“When you’re ready,” said Nat.

Tony said nothing. His brain was already 8 tracks deep into processing surprise, theorizing which buttons were on Steve’s shirt, and thinking of how he could support Steve. He didn’t come out of it until they were in their place in the parade line, and he felt a nudge at his side.

“It’s not like you to be quiet,” said Steve.

“Oh, yeah,” said Tony. He looked around, and saw that the others were standing a ways off, so he turned back to Steve and said, “Listen, whatever those buttons are, I hope you know I’ve got your back. If you need to try on new pronouns or new clothes or anything else, I’m here for you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve looked around, then reached up to the top of his collar, and flipped it inside out.

“Biromantic, demisexual,” said Steve as he pointed to each one, then he let his shirt shift back into place, “At least, that’s what fits best right now. I only learned all these words yesterday. Jarvis was really helpful.”

Tony felt something warm in the pit of his stomach, then he said, “Thank you for telling me. I’m proud of you. Also, if two separate members of the Avengers had their queer awakening at _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ 30 years apart I’m going to have to send Richard O’Brien a fruit basket.”

“I don’t know if I’d say _that_ , but it definitely… helped,” said Steve. Then he seemed to register everything else Tony had said and added, “Wait, what?”

“You would not _believe_ the crush I got on Tim Curry after I saw it for the first time,” said Tony with a nostalgic smile, “Took a bit to recognize it for what it was, though. And it wasn’t long after that when I realized that maybe it wasn’t an accident that my bedroom had a poster of Han right next to the poster of Leia. And that maybe straight boys didn’t jerk off to the idea of sleeping with both of them.”

Steve laughed and said, “Tony, are you sure you’re not just _Star Wars_ -sexual?”

“Hey, when they make a pride flag for that, it’s going right next to this one,” said Tony, pointing to his bi pride pin.

Then it was time to step off, and walking down that street with his friends, surrounded by love and identity of every stripe, Tony felt like he could take on the whole damn world. But the parade route was pretty long, and there wasn’t a lot to do except smile and wave, which meant Tony had a lot of time to think. And so, even though he had promised himself a thousand times he’d stop engaging in the habit, Tony turned his idle mind toward its new favorite obsession: Steve.

There had been 3 iron-clad tentpoles to the “Dating Steve Can’t Happen'' construct in Tony’s mind: Tony would get over his own feelings with time, Steve was straight, and dating him would bring instability to the Avengers. Reason number 1 had turned out to be less than iron-clad. Something about going to California and having to talk himself out of calling Steve every day had grown his crush exponentially. He’d hoped he’d mellow out when he came back to New York, but in a development that should not have surprised him as much as it did, seeing Steve every day just made it worse. And now, reason number 2 had crumbled into dust - Steve was, in theory, interested in guys. Guys he had a deep personal connection with, and Tony couldn’t deny they definitely had that. Steve hadn’t come out to anyone else. And now that he knew two Avengers were already in a relationship with each other, reason number 3, the main tentpole of the bunch, was starting to look a bit shaky.

Which meant Tony needed to find some new tentpoles.

He could start with the fact that by Steve’s own admission, he was very, very new to the not-straight world. He needed to be supported and encouraged, not climbed like a tree by an old lech like Tony. Steve hadn’t even dated anyone since at least the 40’s. There was a whole new world of people to form personal connections with; he couldn’t make an informed choice just hanging out with the five of them in the tower all the time. Hell, if he was going to find someone he liked well enough to kiss on New Year’s Eve, he should probably start looking now. Tony could help him with that. And the original main tentpole was still standing, if less strong than it had been. He and Steve getting together and breaking up would invite instability and danger. It was just too risky.

And so, later that week, when he and Steve were hanging out in the kitchen eating some of Steve’s leftover birthday cake from the day before and Steve mentioned the weather was looking nice enough for a trip to the Cloisters tomorrow, Tony wasn’t even a little bit worried about keeping things platonic. Because he and Steve were never going to date, and there wasn’t anything else to be done about it.

“How’d you like your first Pride?” Tony asked.

“I can get used to sharing my birthday week with it,” said Steve.

“I still can’t believe you wouldn’t let me throw you a party.”

“You didn’t get a party for your birthday.”

“Yeah, we were in space fighting Galactus, and there’s no way any of us could beat that guy at beer pong.”

Steve laughed, then said, “Thank you again, by the way, for your gift.”

“It was a bunch of pictures in an album, Steve, you can stop _thanking_ me for Christ’s sake.”

“It’s good though. Seeing the-- the home I’ve built with you. All of you, that is.”

Tony had no idea what to say to that, so instead he quipped, “Yeah, well, I’ve learned a thing or two about what to get you since the baseball card fiasco.”

Steve’s face clouded over, and he said, “I want to apologize for that. Back then I thought you were trying to buy me, but I know you better now.”

“Clearly not, since I _was_ trying to buy you.”

“Nah, you were apologizing in the only way you knew how, because God knows I didn’t give you any other ways to do it. I was a real jackass, and I’m sorry.”

“There was a lot of that going around, Steve, and I’m sorry for my half of it. Kind of glad you returned the card anyway. The Smithsonian sure appreciated it, and they’d’ve never forgiven me if I let you get your big glittery mitts all over it.”

Steve looked down at his hands, gave an exasperated sigh and started rubbing them together to get the remnants of the Sunday’s glitter off them.

“Alright, honest opinion of Pride? Too much glitter. Everything else is great, but I’ve taken 6 showers since Sunday and I still can’t get the damn stuff off.”

“C’mere - it’s all over your face too,” said Tony.

The second he touched Steve’s face he knew it was a mistake. Steve’s 5 o’clock shadow was rough under Tony’s knuckles as his thumb pressed gently into Steve’s cheek to remove a few stray pieces of glitter. Tony had to will his hands not to shake as ran his fingers over the lines of Steve’s face - the arch of his brow, the curve of his cupid’s bow, that fucking fantastic jawline, all to get rid of a few damned bits of sparkly plastic. And of course Steve _had_ to close his eyes and part his lips and even _sigh_ for good measure, which was… did he even know what that looked like? Some people would’ve read an invitation and absolutely ravaged those lips, run kisses up that jaw and then worked their way down his neck--

Tony withdrew his hands.

“I need to get back to the lab,” said Tony, as he turned and fled the kitchen, “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

“Alright,” said Steve.

When Tony finally got inside the lab, he pressed his back against the door and put his hand over his eyes.

“Jarvis, make a note,” said Tony without moving, “I will hold up these tentpoles if it _kills_ me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asgard has a completely different conception of gender from Earth, so Thor's pretty much queer by default. Bruce id's as straight, but would describe his relationship with his gender as "complicated." Anybody who dates either Clint or Nat knows the other one is one of the cornerstones of their life, that they're never going to live apart, and that's never going to change.
> 
> The annual Heritage of Pride Parade is something I'd recommend stopping by for a half hour to an hour, then peeling off to go do any of the hundred other queer events happening in the city that day. It's a just a lot of corporate floats these days, y'know? That said, if you get the chance to march in it, wear some comfortable walking shoes and go for it (and be prepared to spend the rest of your life de-glittering)


	15. We Asked 3 Medieval Armorers What They Thought of the Iron Man Suit

“I don’t know why this is on the list, actually,” said Steve, “The Cloisters opened in ‘38. When I was in art school we took a trip up here to draw some of the reliquaries.”

“What? Buzzfeed made a mistake? I’ll order an inquiry. Someone should file a complaint,” said Tony.

They were in the car driving up FDR drive on their way uptown. It was starting to get properly hot, and the sun was reflecting off all the new glass buildings across the river. Steve’s fingers itched to get out his sketchpad, but they’d be past the buildings by the time he even got down the outline, and he’d been told enough times that cars weren’t allowed to stop in the middle of the street anymore.

“Won’t be me. Doing this list with you is the most fun I’ve ever had,” said Steve.

Tony looked out his window at the blank expanse of the tunnel wall they were driving through. What was Tony feeling that he wanted to hide? Had Steve touched another nerve by mistake?

“Hey, Tony,” said Steve carefully.

“New Year’s Eve,” said Tony, looking back toward Steve. There was a determined set to his jaw.

“What?” said Steve.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Tony, “the last thing on your list is ‘kiss someone you love at Times Square on New Years Eve,’ right?”

“Oh, um… right,” said Steve.

“And you’re demisexual, which means I can’t hook you up with a date the night of and hope for the best. So if you’re gonna be a completionist, you should think about getting back out there.”

Steve had spent the last 24 hours agonizing over how to read what had happened in the kitchen, and now he had his answer. It really had been about the damned glitter. Tony wanted Steve to find someone else.

“Hey, don’t look so depressed about it,” said Tony, “You’re a catch, Steve. I personally know at least a hundred people who’d love to go out with you.”

“I dunno, Tony, I think I’d rather skip it entirely,” said Steve dejectedly.

“Oh come on, it’s been 70 years since you’ve gotten laid. Time to join the 21st century properly, pal,” said Tony.

Steve felt the familiar warmth set into his cheeks. Now was not the time to bring up that no, it hadn’t been 70 years. It had been never. In Steve’s whole life he’d only liked two people enough to even imagine getting that intimate with them. But he’d never gotten the chance with Peggy, and now it sounded like he’d never get the chance with Tony either.

“Just tell me I don’t have to steal an ice cream truck,” deflected Steve.

Tony snorted, “Don’t-- hang on, that’s not a bad idea.”

“Either you skipped a few lines in the conversation we were having or you’re seriously about to try to convince Captain America to steal an ice cream truck, and I sure hope it’s not the second one,” said Steve.

“Hey, it worked out for me in the end, remember? But number 13 on the list is trying a bunch of sweets around the city. That’s textbook date material.”

Steve felt a pang of loss in his chest. “I thought we were going to do this together,” he said.

“I think Operation Stark Lark can make a tactical sacrifice for Operation Steve Smooch,” said Tony. Then he added, “Look, if your date sucks, just buy some extra cronuts or whatever, bring’em back to the lab, and we’ll commiserate over carbs.”

“Get ready for a lot of commiserating,” said Steve.

“Oh _please,_ you’ll have your cute little demi heart set on someone in no time.”

 _You have no idea_ , thought Steve.

“Hell, let’s practice,” said Tony as the car pulled up to the Cloisters and let them out.

“I’m sorry?” said Steve.

“C’mon,” said Tony, as he took Steve’s hand and pulled him out of the car, “This’ll be fun.”

“Tony, what are you talking about?” said Steve as they walked up to the entrance.

Tony held up the back of his palm against his forehead and struck a melodramatic pose.

“I’m _Chadwick,_ the art restorer. And if you wanna lick _my_ triptych you should take me to the Cloisters. I’m so glad my date Steve knows me so well,” said Tony.

Steve laughed in spite of himself. “No, absolutely not,” he said.

“Oh?” said Tony, as he handed over their tickets to the person at the front desk, “How about _Tiffany_ , the Catholic school teacher?” Tony flounced some imaginary shoulder-length hair, “Show me a book of hours and then you and me can talk about _after_ hours.”

“Well, Tiffany, I don’t do that unless we’re really good friends first, so maybe we should just enjoy the art today,” said Steve.

“OOOoooh, so _sensitive_ ,” said Tony with a bat of his eyelashes.

“You got it - Steve Rogers, the sensitive artist who’d very much like his date to shut up now so he can draw a Madonna,” said Steve.

“See, I’m glad we’re practicing, Steve,” said Tony in his normal voice, “because we’re catching some amateur hour mistakes here. Most dates don’t like it when you tell them to shut up.”

“I’m sure Tiffany can deal with it,” said Steve as he sat on a bench and faced a wooden statue of a Madonna and child and balanced his sketchpad on his lap, “Now go wander the museum for a bit. Meet me in the chapel with the tombs in an hour.”

Unfortunately, medieval art had never really been Steve’s thing, and he got bored of the Madonna pretty quickly. He felt a little guilty, but everybody knows you come to the Cloisters for the atmosphere and the courtyards more than the art, anyway. So he stowed his sketch pad and walked around the museum for a bit, soaking in the ambiance and hoping Tony wasn’t trying to buy the unicorn tapestries to keep himself entertained. It wasn’t long until he heard a familiar cadence of speech coming through a doorway nearby, though, and he followed it until he came to an open courtyard.

There was Tony, seated on a bench, deep in discussion with a kid who couldn’t have been older than 6. She was wearing an Iron Man shirt and holding an Iron Man doll, and clearly asking a thousand questions, which Tony was answering with wild gesticulations and exaggerated faces.

And without even thinking, Steve had his sketchpad in front of him again. 45 minutes later he had two whole pages of Tony making faces, Tony’s hands over his head making dramatic claws, Tony with his chin on his fist listening intently, Tony laughing. He’d drawn Tony from memory more often than he cared to admit but this? He’d treasure this.

Eventually the little girl’s mom and dad must’ve gotten tired of waiting patiently by the other bench and went to collect her, and Steve knew that would mean Tony would be making his way to the chapel in a moment. So he got up from the bench where he’d been able to hide in the shadows while he worked, and made his way down there first.

“How’s the Madonna?” said Tony when he eventually joined Steve.

“Oh y’know,” said Steve vaguely, “Have a nice time while I was drawing?”

“Well, I did get to meet my biggest fan. Apparently SEPs aren’t as effective on kids who wear our merchandise.”

“Good to know,” said Steve. Then he looked up at the high windows and said, “Y’know I’ve always wondered why they went buckwild for pointed arches in the Middle Ages.”

And so while they finished up strolling through the rest of the museum, Tony filled Steve in on everything there was to know about Medieval architecture. And Steve was more than happy to listen and just… bask. In the solemn, calming atmosphere of the Cloisters, in the intricate golds and bright blues and reds of the triptychs and stained glass windows, and in the sheer joy that was Tony, talking about something he liked.

They were on their way out the door when Tony said, “Crap, now you know everything you could ever need to know about rib vaults and not a damn thing about keeping a date happy.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Tony,” said Steve as they walked back to the car, “I think I can handle it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized while I was writing this chapter that I never actually confirmed my hunch that the Cloisters was built after Steve would've gone into the ice and... yeah. Oops. Oh well, Buzzfeed made a mistake in this universe. I guess I could've hypothetically sent them to another, newer museum, but if you can't tell this fanfic is "Gogglor sends fictional characters to all the places she can't go during the pandemic," and boy do I miss the Cloisters.
> 
> Steve's right, by the way - you go to the Cloisters for the ambiance and the absolutely gorgeous courtyards, so even if you don't much go for medieval Christian art it's absolutely worth the trek. And if you take the subway to get there, you also get a lovely stroll through Fort Tryon park on your way there out of the deal.
> 
> Also, I am sorry to report that literally nothing I ever write will ever top "lick my triptych." It's all downhill from here, folks.


	16. We Found Colonel Rhodes’s Old High School Drama Pictures (And He Looks Great in Tights!)

“Steve, of everyone Tony’s met since he joined the Avengers, you are my favorite,” said Pepper, as she took one of the to-go drinks off the paper tray in Steve’s hand, “Also from before he joined the Avengers too. No offense, Rhodey, but after this you’ve got to step up your game.”

“Oh none taken. Steve’s my favorite too,” said Rhodey as he took another cup. He took a sip of his frozen hot chocolate straight from Serendipity, savored it for a second, and said, “Although Bruce did bring rainbow bagels to that joint Army-Avengers meeting last Fall.”

Tony also took a cup, but he was frowning at his. Steve showing up with a dessert in Central Park, where they were meeting up before heading over to see _Much Ado About Nothing_ at Shakespeare in the Park, meant his date had been yet another failure. Steve had been eating his way through New York City’s confectionary masterpieces for almost two months now and as each date had crashed and burned, he’d come back with an extra sweet for Tony to commiserate with him over.

There was cronuts for Tyra, who’d fangirled out and sobbed through the whole thing. Pumpkin scones from Alice’s Teacup for Jacob, who wouldn’t get off his phone. Momofuku crack pie for Angela, who wanted to know if the super soldier serum affected Steve’s sperm because her biological clock was ticking. Maine blueberry pie from Peetee’s Pies for Michael, who was way too handsy. Cupcakes from Magnolia bakery for Crystal, who he “just wasn’t feeling it with.” Morganstern’s ice cream for Lyra, who thought dogs laid eggs. And now, something was wrong with Brian, and Tony thought he’d been really careful with this one.

“If you were in town last week you could’ve had some. I brought a bunch back to the tower,” said Steve (that’s right - Tony forgot those were with Sylvia, who tried to get Steve to join her pyramid scheme).

“Ok, that settles it: Steve is the best Avenger,” said Rhodey.

“Hey, what about that time I baked you brownies?” said Tony.

“Oh you mean the weed brownies you baked for me, back at MIT? When I was your RA and therefore obligated to report illegal drugs on the floor?” said Rhodey.

“In my defense, there were _two_ batches of brownies, and you were supposed to get the _not_ weed ones,” said Tony, “And the robotics study group ended up having a _much_ more productive all-nighter than we’d planned, so thank you for that.”

“Why were you at Serendipity?” said Pepper.

“Had a date,” said Steve, “Didn’t go well.”

Pepper and Rhodey looked at Steve like he was from Mars, then at Tony, then at each other, and back at Steve.

“You’re… dating,” said Pepper, “other people.”

“Did you think he was dating the hot chocolate?” said Tony, as he clasped Steve on the shoulder, “Steve’s making a heroic effort to escape single life and while I will miss him in bachelor-dom, I commend him for his efforts.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” said Rhodey quietly, who was shaking his head and biting his lip like he was trying not to laugh. Pepper was looking at the sky like she was surrounded by idiots and praying for the strength not to laugh herself.

“Hey, quit being dicks to Steve. Dating is hard. C’mon, let’s go inside, the play’s about to start,” said Tony, who did _not_ know what had gotten into Pepper and Rhodey tonight. He’d been counting on them to be his better angels when he took Steve to the play tonight in case there was another glitter incident, but they’d apparently chosen to spend the one time the stars aligned and they were both in town and free at the same time to break out their mean streaks.

“You go in, Pepper and I’ll join you in a sec,” said Rhodey.

So Tony and Steve headed inside to find their seats, and Tony hoped Rhodey and Pepper discussed whatever they had to in order to cut the crap. Although apparently not, because before they were completely out of earshot, Tony heard Pepper say, “Are our friends really this stupid, Rhodey?” and wow, _that_ was uncalled for.

“I dunno what their deal is tonight,” said Tony, “Also, I’m almost afraid to ask, but what was wrong with Brian?”

Steve started blushing, which… oh no, that was _not_ a good sign.

“He uh… he liked shoes,” said Steve.

“Well yeah, he’s gay, that’s not--”

“No, Tony. He _really_ liked shoes.”

“...ah. Dammit, I knew I should’ve hacked his browser history. I’ll add that to the list of things to check for in the next one.”

“Yeah, the next one,” said Steve glumly.

Eventually Pepper and Rhodey joined them and they watched the play, which Tony was sure was hilarious and well done, but Steve was sitting next to him and his thigh was pressed against his and it was _incredibly_ distracting. Whatever - if anyone asked him about the plot later he’d just say it seemed like a whole lot of ado about nothing, and they’d all chortle at his dry wit while Steve rolled his eyes, because Steve knew Tony better than anyone by now.

“So, Steve,” said Pepper as they were walking out of the theater, “Was Tony the one who set you up on your date?”

“Yeah,” said Steve nonchalantly.

“See, there’s your problem, Steve,” said Rhodey, who was walking right next to Pepper, “Tony is _terrible_ at setting people up.”

“Hey, I introduced you to your wife,” said Tony.

“You knocked on my door at MIT and said, ‘This asshole won’t stop complaining that my music is too loud, please deal with her,’ then you _left_ Gina there with me,” said Rhodey.

“And now you’re happily married, what? 17 years?” said Tony, “You’re welcome.”

“Anyway, Steve, if you’d like to have a more compatible date, let me set you up. I’ve actually got a good track record,” said Pepper.

“Also,” said Rhodey, “Double dates are way more fun than single ones. You’re still single, aren’t you Tony?”

“Single and not looking to mingle,” said Tony.

“Well that seems a bit unfair,” said Pepper, “You’re throwing Steve into the shark-infested waters of the 21st century dating pool without being willing to dip a toe in yourself.”

“Aren’t you two planning to go to a baseball game in two weeks?” said Rhodey, “Why don’t you buy two extra tickets?”

Tony squinted at Rhodey and Pepper. They were trying really, really hard to look innocent right now. And now Tony realized what they’d been talking about before they’d come into the theater to join him and Steve.

“This is a plot to get me dating again, and I’d like to state for the record that I resent it,” said Tony.

“Hey, you’re plotting to get _Steve_ dating again,” said Rhodey.

“Steve doesn’t want me crashing his dates,” said Tony dismissively.

“Oh he doesn’t, does he?” said Steve.

Tony looked up at Steve, who was looking a little smug. In fact, all three of them were. The people he loved more than anything were a bunch of _bastards_.

“Fine!” said Tony, throwing up his hands, “Set us up, Pepper, have a ball.”

Later, before they all parted ways for the night, Tony spotted Rhodey and Pepper discreetly bumping fists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized as I was writing this chapter that technically cronuts weren't around yet in 2013, but I've decided in the aftermath of the battle for New York, some baker walked into his hulk-smashed cafe, saw a donut and a croissant smooshed together and went "by God, that's it" and invented cronuts a few years sooner.
> 
> Much Ado About Nothing also wasn't playing for Shakespeare in the Park in the summer of 2013, but a play about two idiots who're crazy for each other but can't seem to get together until their friends scheme to set them up just felt appropriate for this chapter for some reason.


	17. 10 Celebrities (and Two Superheroes!) That Got Caught on the Kiss Cam

Steve was absolutely _buzzing_ with excitement. 

The last time he’d been to a baseball game, he and Bucky had saved their pennies and nickels for a whole _year_ so they could buy the cheapest seats at Ebbets Field, and it had been a memory he’d cherish for the rest of his life. And now, all these years later, here he was at Citifield in his Dodgers gear, getting ready to do it all again with his new favorite person in the world.

And also Doug and Colleen.

At the very least, Pepper had been right about being a much better matchmaker for Steve than Tony had been. Colleen, his date, was a scientist at CERN, and she was whip smart and funny, had gorgeous dark brown hair and eyes and a thousand interesting things to say about her work in particle physics. Doug, on the other hand, was _not_ a good pick for Tony. He was this sort of beefy blonde art history professor (Seriously, Pepper? Haven’t you ever seen Tony at an art museum?), and Tony was dutifully talking art with him but Steve could tell his heart wasn’t really in it.

“Hey Tony,” said Steve, rescuing him yet _again_ from Doug, “Help me out with something. There were not one but two perfectly good New York teams that had been kicked out of the city but had loyal fanbases here, and instead of bringing one back they up and made the Mets. Why?”

“I know this is hard to believe, Steve, but San Francisco _likes_ their Giants, and Los Angeles _likes_ their Dodgers. And the Giants and the Dodgers like them right back.”

“Do they even have trolleys to dodge in Los Angeles?” said Steve.

“They do,” said Colleen, “More than they do in Brooklyn now. You’ve never been to LA?”

“USO tour never made it there,” said Steve, “Should I go?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” said Tony, “The paparazzi there are ruthless. I doubt even a SEP would work out there.”

“But the LA County Museum of Art makes it worth it,” said Doug, “They’ve got a great wing on 20th century Americana.”

“Oh, that’s your specialty isn’t it?” said Tony, “Tell me about it.”

Steve suppressed an eye roll and turned back towards Colleen. As a living relic of 20th century Americana he could personally testify to the fact that Doug’s specialty was superficial and boring. Plus Tony had read all of Doug’s books the moment Pepper said he was going to be Tony’s date, and that was on top of the ones he’d already read when he had his childhood preoccupation with Captain America. He probably knew more about Doug’s specialty than Doug did.

“So, Colleen, tell me about yourself,” said Steve, forcing himself not to think about how irritating it was hearing Tony ask Doug questions he already knew the answer to, “Why’d you start working at CERN?”

“Eh, it was either overachieve there or keep overachieving at MIT” said Colleen with a wave of her hand, “And I get to make little bits of nothing smash into each other and study how they go boom. What more can you want in life? Plus I was pretty sure MIT was eager to get rid of me - I’d just finished my third PhD from them when I took the job.”

Steve heard Tony snort next to him, and Steve himself had to bite his lip to stop from laughing.

“Wow, I did not expect that to get an actual audible laugh,” said Colleen.

“Um… inside joke,” said Steve, “Not really funny out of context though.”

“Do all the Avengers have this many inside jokes as you two?” asked Doug, because apparently the conversation couldn’t be about him for a second.

“Plus some,” said Tony, standing up, “You wanna come with me and get some hot dogs?”

“Yeah sure,” said Doug, getting up to join him.

“Um, Tony--” started Steve.

“Don’t worry, Steve, I’ll get a dozen for you too,” said Tony as he patted Steve on the shoulder before he left.

“Hey, can I get--” started Colleen, but Tony was already down the aisle. Then she turned to Steve and said, “Is he always this rude?”

“He gets tunnel-vision when he gets his mind set on things. Usually it’s tech or coffee, but sometimes it’s food. He’s not trying to be rude,” said Steve, a little defensively.

“Hm, ok,” said Colleen with a shrug. Then she asked, “Anyway, what about you? What was it like going into space to fight Galactus?”

Steve was mid-way through talking about what it was like to sleep in 0g, when Steve felt Tony tap his shoulder, a whole box of hot dogs in his hand.

“You’re the best, Tony,” said Steve, as he took the box and then promptly got to work demolishing everything in it. 10 seconds and 4 hot dogs later, he noticed Colleen was staring at him.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Steve, as he wiped his face with a napkin, “I forgot how disgusting this looks to people who aren’t used to it.”

“No, it’s fine,” said Colleen quickly, “I just-- man, you could give Joey Chestnut a run for his money, y’know?”

“Who’s Joey Chestnut?”

“Oh, you know Nathan’s famous hot dogs? Every year on the fourth of July they host a hot dog eating contest, and almost every year Joey Chestnut’s the guy that breaks his own record winning it.”

“So that’s how they celebrate my birthday these days,” said Steve drily. Then he remembered Colleen probably didn’t know when his birthday was before this conversation, which meant… yeah, she was gaping at him. Here we go.

“No, Captain America’s birthday is _not_ July fourth,” she said incredulously.

Steve had had this conversation more times than he could count and he was wearily getting ready to have it again when he felt Tony tap him on the shoulder.

“Tell me something, Steve - if all of the players down there swapped uniforms, which team would you root for?” Tony asked.

“I’d-- hm,” said Steve.

“Yeah, that’s why I don’t get sports,” laughed Doug and _wow_ what a _dick_.

“You get me, Doug,” said Tony, as he fist-bumped Doug, “But I still love coming to baseball games. There’s something about the peanut shells under your feet and the organ music and the lulls in the game when you can talk to the people next to you that makes it all just so damn _pleasant_.”

See, Doug? Tony gets it.

They continued on like that for a few innings - Steve periodically saving Tony when Doug started droning on and on about war time propaganda posters, and Colleen cracking jokes and talking with Steve about their respective jobs. Or trying to - Tony was interrupting them a lot, to the point that sometime in the fourth inning Colleen was clearly getting miffed. Tony had that effect on people who didn’t know him like Steve did.

And Tony might not have been a sports guy but he was a fantastic guy to watch baseball with. He knew when to shut up and play with his phone when the bases were loaded and there was a full count, and he knew how to fill all of baseball’s natural spaces between plays and innings with running commentary on… well, everything. There was definitely some weird tension going on with Colleen and Doug, but hey, nobody had asked if they could stick their dick in Steve’s shoe yet, which made this date orders of magnitude better than his last one.

Steve was halfway through explaining the infield fly rule to Tony when suddenly the crowd around them erupted into gasps and cheers that had nothing to do with what was happening on the field.

“ _Fuck_ ,” said Tony, as he stared at something slightly to their left, then looked up, “The camera guy must be Deaf.”

Steve followed Tony’s gaze. Up on the giant screen, there was Steve and Colleen. They were framed in a heart labeled “Kiss Cam.” Steve turned to look at her, and while she was blushing a bit, she was already leaning in for a kiss.

But before Steve could even panic, Tony was standing between him and the camera, striking a pose, then blowing kisses to the crowd. Then he turned around and shouted, “WHO WANTS A SMOOCH!?” to the area around them. And as soon as hands started shooting up, Tony was kissing everybody around them. Everyone in the stadium was cheering, except Steve, who was currently stewing in a combination of panic, relief, confusion, embarrassment, and a strong desire to get the fuck out of there. And Doug and Colleen didn’t look too happy either.

When the camera _finally_ moved on somewhere else, Tony turned to everyone and said, “C’mon, we’ve got to get out of here, now the whole crowd knows we’re here.”

They wormed their way through a crush of bodies all asking for autographs and what not, but instead of making for the exit Tony had them push their way to the elevator bank. One of the elevators was smaller than the other ones, and had a velvet rope and an attendant in front of it. Tony held up his phone to the attendant, who then let them go inside. The second the doors closed, Steve released all the tension he didn’t even realize he was holding and sagged against the wall.

“Sorry about that,” said Tony, “Bit of a hazard when you’re out with an Avenger. But we can still catch the game.”

The elevator doors opened to an empty hallway. On the opposite, curved wall was a row of identically spaced doors, each with a whiteboard on it that said “Eddie Brock Birthday Party” or “Oscorp Retreat,” and each one had different levels of chatter and socializing coming from them. Steve guessed these must be the private suites.

“You had a suite this whole time and we still went down to the field?” said Steve.

“Yeah, because the best part of going to a baseball game is the atmosphere, and it’s way worse in a suite,” said Tony.

It was at that point Steve realized neither Colleen nor Doug was walking with them in the direction of Tony’s suite. So Steve turned around and saw them both looking angry and embarrassed and like they wanted to be anywhere but here.

“Is something wrong?” asked Steve.

“Yeah,” said Colleen, “What the fuck was _that_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathan's annual hot dog eating contest on the fourth of July is an event anyone who's spent a significant amount of time in NYC has at least *heard of.* And every year the question is whether Joey Chestnut's gonna break his record again (although recently he's tied with some other competitive eaters). I'd say google a video of it, but um... it can be a little nauseating to watch the man work.


	18. The 5 Most Outrageous Things Tony Stark Really Did!

“What was _what?_ ” said Tony.

“It was a _kiss cam_ , and Steve and I are, in theory anyway, on a date,” said Colleen, “Although the longer I spend here the more I’m starting to doubt that.”

Tony exhaled heavily and bit back about a thousand petty things he could’ve said. Tony didn’t know what barrel Pepper had scraped the bottom of to find Colleen, but rescuing Steve from her crap had been a full time project all day. And now, apparently, he had to rescue Steve _twice_ from the same damn kiss cam.

“Did you _see_ Steve? He wanted to melt into the seat,” said Tony, “Believe it or not Steve and I are friends outside of work and I try to watch his back when I can.”

“Oh is _that_ what’s happening here,” said… Doug? Doug had been consistently sweet and generally a great guy to be around all day - where the hell was this coming from?

“Doug? What are--”

“You jumped in front of a kiss cam and kissed everybody in Citifield _except your actual date_ ,” said Doug.

And… hm. Ok, that one was on Tony.

“Look, whatever is happening here,” Colleen gestured between Tony and Steve, “It’s clear we’re not welcome, alright? C’mon, Doug, do you want to get out of here?”

“ _Yes please_ ,” said Doug, and before Tony could say another word, Doug and Colleen had disappeared back inside the elevator.

“Well… shit,” said Tony, “I think that fuck up is on me.”

“It’s not,” said Steve, “You were right, I did want to melt into the seat. If you didn’t intervene, Colleen was probably gonna be ticked off with me anyway for not going along with that.”

“Man, fucking Colleen,” said Tony, “C’mon, Steve, let’s go to the suite.”

“I mean, she was nice,” said Steve as they headed toward the suite that said “Stark Party”, “I think the fact that something as horrible as a kiss cam exists is to blame here.”

“Nice? All she did was talk about either your work or her work.”

“I don’t mind talking about work,” said Steve, “And her work was really interesting.”

“It’s just _particle physics_ ,” muttered Tony disparagingly as they went through the door. Inside was a small room with a few snack platters laid out, a social area in the back with armchairs and a foosball table, and a couple of padded seats facing the field.

“At least Doug left too. How did you not fall asleep talking to him?” said Steve.

“What? No, Doug was fine,” said Tony as he sat down in one of the seats facing the field.

“Yeah, if you want to get bored to death talking about Norman Rockwell,” said Steve as he sat down next to him.

“Don’t you like Norman Rockwell?” asked Tony.

“Not as obsessively as _that guy_ ,” said Steve, “And didn’t you read all of Doug’s books when Pepper told you who you were coming with? Why’d you let him talk at you like you were some kind of wide-eyed undergrad?”

“It’s _polite_ , Steve. People don’t like it when I upstage them on their area of expertise.”

“You shouldn’t have to dumb yourself down to get a date, Tony.”

Tony chuckled and said, “If I didn’t, every date I’ve ever had would run screaming for the door before we even walked through it.”

“Sounds like you’re dating the wrong kinds of people,” said Steve.

“Nah, I’ve tried dating geniuses. The ones that aren’t taken are all as emotionally stunted as I am.”

“No, Tony, I meant you shouldn’t be with someone you can’t be yourself around.”

“Have you _met_ me?”

“I have. You’re a catch, Tony,” said Steve as he blushed and focused on fiddling with his arm rest.

Tony forcefully reminded himself that reading into the blushes of a guy who also blushed whenever they passed a billboard with a model’s exposed midriff on it was not something he should do, and the butterflies in his stomach needed to get with the program. Then he said, “Well, you shouldn’t have to pick up your dates from the fan club.”

“How do you mean?”

“Literally all she cared about was Captain America.”

“I _am_ Captain America, Tony.”

“Yeah, but you’re so much more than that. You’re Steve Rogers. You like to draw with charcoal pencils, and you’re fluent in sign language, and you think the jedi don’t use the force to its full tactical potential, and your accent comes out when you say ‘chocolate,’ and… um…”

Steve had those absolutely gorgeous blue eyes fixed on Tony, and it felt like Steve was seeing right through him. Like if Steve kept looking at him like that, Steve would see how desperately Tony wanted to close the distance between them and kiss him until the room spun. And if Tony didn’t think of something quick, he might do exactly that.

“Do you want something to eat?” said Tony in a rush, “There’s a whole buffet back here, and I know those hot dogs probably didn’t top you off.”

Steve blinked, like he was getting his bearings, then said, “Uh… yeah. Yeah, sure.”

Tony practically leapt out of his seat and willed his heart rate down as he picked up some nachos for himself and an entire tray of chicken fingers and french fries for Steve.

“Thanks,” said Steve when Tony came back, and _man_ was Tony glad that Steve went back to looking at the game instead of at him.

“You’re right, the atmosphere’s way worse in these suites,” said Steve.

“It’s the acoustics,” said Tony.

“Tell me about it,” said Steve.

So Tony spent the rest of the game talking about reverb and building materials and how the vendors and the organ and the announcer all paint an acoustic picture and how where they were sitting was like looking at a painting with some of the colors missing. And of course _that_ bled into talking about paintings again and then a hundred other things. If it were anyone else sitting next to him, Tony would have spent the entire time worrying he was bulldozing them with word vomit and spent the rest of the week kicking himself for turning into Howard the second he got an inch of conversational purchase. But it wasn’t anyone else; it was Steve. It was like Tony had spent his life pouring himself through a hundred filters to present a facsimile of a functional human being to the world. And here, with Steve, he could just… be.

“Hey, Tony? Can I uh… can I ask you something?” said Steve.

It was after the game, and they were in the car back to the tower, which was considerably more comfortable now it was just the two of them in it.

“What’s up, buttercup?” said Tony

Steve was squirming in his seat. Clearly whatever he was trying to get out was really difficult.

“Hey… It’s ok. Take your time,” said Tony.

So Steve took a breath and said, “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, Steve, we’re friends,” said Tony.

“And I really, really like being friends with you,” said Steve.

“...but?” said Tony.

“But…” said Steve. And for a moment, it looked like Steve might explode with whatever he was about to say. But eventually he pressed his lips together, exhaled, stared at the ground with a resigned look. Tony had thought he’d lost his nerve until Steve muttered, “But you need to stop setting me up on dates.”

“Oh,” said Tony, relief washing through him, “Yeah, I’d forgotten how much dating sucks. I’m sorry, Steve, I’ll stop setting you up.”

“It’s fine,” said Steve, “I just-- I’m not looking right now.”

“Hey, maybe they’ll find _you_ ,” said Tony.

“Yeah, maybe,” said Steve, as he looked out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pepper sent both Doug and Colleen huge apologetic fruit baskets after this. Colleen's included a note that ended with, "By the way, Doug is bisexual and you're his type." She did not know that Colleen had already found that out for herself when she went with Doug to a diner near the stadium to commiserate about that horrible date, and then left with each other's numbers in their phones and plans to catch a movie next weekend.


	19. 12 Tips on Finding your Zen from the Incredible Hulk

“I am never going to forgive you for this,” said Tony.

“Well that’s a little melodramatic,” said Steve.

“Do you have any _idea_ how hard I worked on this costume?”

They’d just come back from the Halloween parade and they were sitting next to each other at the kitchen island, eating reheated Thai food. Steve’s costume was in a heap on the table next to him, although the plastic mask was pulled up on his forehead. Tony was still in his costume, minus the helmet which was somewhere in the living room upstairs. And he was glaring at his phone and continually refreshing a webpage displayed on it.

“I do know. You’ve been giving me daily updates since you started,” said Steve.

“And every time I asked you how your costume was progressing you said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got it,’” said Tony.

“Yes I did,” said Steve.

“I invented new pigments just to get the stripes in the right color without the lead paint, you know.”

“Did I ask you to do that?”

“Yes, you did. You did when you said, ‘Hey, Tony, how about you go to the Halloween parade as Captain America and I’ll go as Iron Man.’”

“I do remember saying that. I do _not_ remember saying ‘Tony, I’d like you to go specifically as February 1942 USO tour Captain America and don’t bother coming if you don’t get the scuffs on the helmet exactly right.’”

“February 1942 USO tour Captain America at the _Philadelphia stop_ , thank you very much. And you knew what you were asking for when you made that suggestion, don’t deny it.”

“I may have underestimated your commitment to verisimilitude.”

“And all this time I thought you were making a good faith effort at something in cardboard and metallic paint but no, where did you buy that? Target?”

“Spirit Halloween.”

“ _Spirit Halloween!_ You got the shittiest Iron Man costume off the clearance rack at Spirit Halloween and _velcro strapped it over your normal clothes_. Unbelievable.”

Steve smirked. “I remember you liking it a lot when I met you in the common room earlier,” said Steve.

“I don’t remember that,” said Tony.

“I remember you dropping the shield you were laughing so hard.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“It took you about 10 minutes to finally take a picture of us because every time you tried you started laughing again.”

“Lies. Absolute falsehoods.”

“Hey, Jarvis? Could you confirm--”

“Leave Jarvis out of this. Besides, he’s biased. He likes you better than he likes me.”

“He does _not_.”

“J?”

“I do like Captain Rogers more than I like you, sir,” said Jarvis.

“Did… did you program Jarvis to say he likes other people better than you just so you could win arguments like this?” said Steve.

“I program Jarvis to do a lot of things,” said Tony.

Steve chuckled, then said, “Somehow I think you’ll forgive me for this one day.”

“How could I? Look at this--” said Tony, showing Steve his phone, “5,000 idiots voted you had the better costume on my Twitter. 5,000! You’re beating me twice over!”

“I guess I just had the better costume this year.”

“We are no longer friends,” said Tony dismissively.

“Oh well, at least I still have Bruce,” said Steve.

Bruce had just walked into the kitchen. And… man, he looked _terrible_.

“Everything ok, Bruce?” said Steve.

“Fine. Just tell me there’s Thai food left,” said Bruce tersely as he walked over to the fridge.

“Sorry, Steve finished the last of it,” said Tony, then he added, “Hey, which of us has the better costume this year?”

“You’re both adorable,” said Bruce dully without turning around as he sifted through the contents of the fridge looking for something edible.

Tony and Steve looked at each other, then Tony said, “Bruce, honey, when’s the last time your friend came to visit?”

“I’m _fine_ , Tony,” said Bruce as he slammed the microwave shut on something in a takeout container. And when that clearly didn’t put either of them at ease, Bruce took a breath and put on a smile and said, “Look, see? I’m fine. Just tired.”

Steve was getting ready to politely but insistently corral Bruce over to the special large reinforced elevator that, if necessary, would plummet faster than freefall to the containment floor, but he felt Tony nudge his elbow, and when Steve looked he was shaking his head. Steve was still on edge, but then Tony switched to the messaging app on his phone and texted Natasha, “Party in the kitchen. Green gate-crasher possible. Come check?” Steve relaxed a bit when he saw her reply, “On my way.” Nat had a 6th sense about the Hulk even better than Bruce did. She’d know what to do.

Then Tony started pulling on his collar for the 500th time that night and said, “How did you not choke to death in this thing?”

“Yeah, the collar was the worst part. I used to ask the road manager to change it and all he’d say was, ‘Captain America doesn’t wear a scarf, Steven.’”

“Now there’s an idea. Your new suit would look pretty spiffy with a scarf. But can you help me unclasp it in the back? And maybe zip me down too. I don’t know how the hell all of you do what you do in so much leather, it’s so suffocating.”

Steve swallowed, and said, “Are you uh… wearing anything under that?”

“Worried you’ll see your second bare torso in your life?” said Tony with a wink, which of course sent the blood straight to Steve’s cheeks (and a little somewhere else too). But then Tony added, “Relax, I’ve got a layer on under this. Everyone’s delicate 40’s sensibilities are all accommodated here at Avengers Tower.”

And Steve didn’t have any good reply to that, so he went over to the back of Tony’s suit and started unbuttoning the collar and zipping down the back, willing his fingers not to stray into the dark curls of hair at the nape of Tony’s neck or trace the curve of Tony’s spine as he did.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Bruce muttered as he turned around and took the food out of the microwave.

Both Tony and Steve looked over at Bruce. There was silence for a bit, and then Bruce’s posture said “Fuck it,” and the next thing out of his mouth was, “Tony, why are you doing this to Steve? And Steve, why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Everything alright down here?” said Nat and Steve had never been more grateful to see her in his life.

“No, it’s not,” said Bruce curtly, “Some of us are getting really fucking tired of going along with whatever bullshit is going on between these two and pretending it’s all fucking fine. Aren’t you Steve’s friend, Tony? Why the fuck are you still doing this?”

“Doing _what_ , Bruce?” said Tony.

“ _Torturing_ the poor kid, for Christ’s sake! Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of genius? Any idiot could see he’s crazy about you. And we all thought you were just as crazy back, but apparently not if you’re still keeping up with this bullshit.” said Bruce.

“Bruce--” said Nat.

“No, we are not having the ‘let them figure it out for themselves’ conversation again, Nat. They are literally wearing a couples costume right now for Christ’s sake! We are past the realm of the hilariously un-self-aware and we are now in dead fucking center of maliciously obtuse. And Steve, I honestly don’t know why the fuck you’re pining like some princess in Avengers Tower but if Tony hasn’t sucked your dick yet after almost a _year_ of the two of you dating each other, it’s not going to happen.”

“ _Bruce_ ,” said Nat, and the authority in her voice was unmistakable, “Get into the elevator.”

“Don’t fucking blame this on the _Hulk_ , Nat, it’s insulting,” said Bruce.

“You’re turning green.”

Bruce looked down at his hands and… yeah, there it was. There was a clatter as Bruce dropped the fork he was holding, and then a second later he was on the floor too.

“Jarvis, code green!” shouted Tony.

“Steve, help me pick him up!” shouted Nat.

Within a few seconds Steve was hurling Bruce’s rapidly growing frame into the elevator, which slammed shut and they could hear Bruce’s growls immediately diminish as it plummeted to the containment floor.

For a while no one said anything. Then Nat said, quietly, “That wasn’t your fault. Bruce knows how to recognize the signs, and if they were obvious enough for you to text me then he was ignoring them deliberately. I’m going to talk with him about this when he’s… done. But anything would’ve set him off tonight, so it might as well have been you.”

“Thanks for coming, Nat,” said Steve.

Then Nat pushed an elevator button for herself and turned toward both of them.

“But I think it’s time the two of you had a conversation you’ve been avoiding,” she said. Then she walked into the elevator and left the two of them alone in the hallway.

And she was right. Steve had been talking himself out of asking Tony out for months. One way or the other, they had to get this in the open.

“Tony--” started Steve.

“Have you been carrying a torch for me, Steve?” asked Tony.

Steve hesitated, but finally, _finally_ , he said, “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Halloween Parade is the one thing on this list I haven't actually been to, hence the strategic framing as right past it. My friends who've gone have said it's a lot of fun though.


	20. Captain Rogers Lays His Cards on the Table in Our New Tell-All Interview

Tony needed to stall.

Because this? Steve saying he wanted him? Tony didn’t have an answer to that. Well, that was a lie - one particular answer was practically screaming to get out, but--

Tony needed to stall.

“How long?” Tony asked.

“Since… I don’t know. The High Line at least. Maybe before. But I want to be with you, Tony. I want--”

“Is this why it hasn’t worked on any of your dates?” asked Tony.

“I want _you_ ,” said Steve in reply. Then he reached out and put a hand on the side of Tony’s face and the warmth and the gentleness and heat of the touch made Tony’s breath hitch.

“Am I imagining this?” asked Steve, his own breath unsteady.

Tony took a step back out of Steve’s reach. He couldn’t lie to Steve. Steve knew him too well by now for that. So Tony would have to find a way to address… this, without saying anything wrong.

“Steve, we’re never going to be together like that. You need to find someone else,” said Tony.

And the way Steve’s face just _crumpled_ … Tony couldn’t take it. He turned his face to look at the wall.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” said Tony, willing his voice not to break.

“You really don’t--”

“It’s never going to be like that, Steve.”

“Why _not_ , Tony, why _not?_ ” said Steve, and the anguish tore a gouge straight through Tony’s heart.

Tony chanced a look back at Steve and… fuck, Steve was crying. This was hell. This was worse than anything he’d ever been through - seeing Steve in so much pain and knowing he’d caused it.

But they couldn’t be together. It was too risky. He-- _they_ couldn’t chance it.

Tony screwed his courage to the sticking place and said, “The longer you stay hung up on me, the longer it’s going to take you to find home again, Steve.”

“I’ve _found_ home, Tony. I’ve _built_ it. You’re the biggest part of it,” said Steve, and he reached out again.

It took all the strength Tony had to step back again. He couldn’t do this. It was unbearable. He needed to leave.

“It’s not. We-- I’ve been holding you back, Steve. We should-- we should take some time apart to--”

“Please don’t do this, Tony,” said Steve, and despair was so raw it was like another brand new gouge straight in Tony’s heart.

“Jarvis, call the elevator,” said Tony, because he wasn’t sure he had it in him to so much as press a button right now.

“Don’t leave me, _please_ ,” Steve begged.

The elevator opened, and Tony took a step toward it. Then another. Then another. And when he was inside he chanced a look at Steve and-- Tony had been through torture. This was worse.

“Build home somewhere else,” said Tony.

The second the doors closed, Tony collapsed against the railing.

“Jarvis, take me to the lab. The second I get inside, unlock the liquor cabinet and lock down the floor. And if anyone tries to call in, tell them I can’t be disturbed.”

“Shall I inform your immediate contacts you should be left alone?” said Jarvis

“No, just… they’ll figure it out. They always do, eventually.”


	21. “We Can’t Ride the Subway” and 8 Other Rules You Didn’t Know the Avengers Had

Steve didn’t know how long he spent in his room after Halloween. He was vaguely aware of the passage of time, mostly in the form of different people coming up to visit him and trying to get him to eat something. Which Steve did, mostly to make them stop looking so worried. Nothing had any taste, though.

“God, I never wanted this,” said Bruce, “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

“Why? You were right,” said Steve.

“I wasn’t, Steve. If I were right then Tony wouldn’t be locked in his lab right now as dead to the world as you are.”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” said Steve.

“I know, buddy. But you haven’t left your room in four days. You know this isn’t healthy.”

“I just need a little more time, Bruce,” said Steve.

“Ok, Steve,” said Bruce as he got up to go, “But this can’t continue.”

And after Bruce left, Steve tried not to think of the last time he’d heard that phrase, when he’d been saying it to Tony in the observation deck. Right before his life had changed forever.

Time passed. One day. Then another.

Steve couldn’t really tell you why he ended up in the Bronx at the tail end of the D line. Maybe it was spite, because if the world was going to keep pretending like it hadn’t stopped spinning on October 31st then dammit, he would too. Maybe he was seeking closure. Maybe it was just to get the hell out of the tower. But the thing that felt closest to true was that there was a part of his life that had been cut off and he wanted to feel it again, even if it meant being in pain. So Steve got on the subway at 205th street, picked a corner seat and tried to find the strength to open the Strand bag he’d brought with him.

_“Why the hell are you asking ME for recommendations, Rogers?”_

_Steve ran his fingers over the spines as he walked down the aisle of floor to ceiling books at the Strand._

_“The last books you recommended to me were_ The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy _series, and those turned out to be great,” said Steve._

_“Exactly. I want to go out on a high note,” said Tony, “besides, we’re in the poetry section. Do I look like the kind of guy who’s got a favorite poet?”_

_“I don’t know, do you?”_

_“All the poems I like start with lines like, ‘There once was a man from Nantucket,’” said Tony._

_Steve snorted. “I can’t believe I ever took you to a poetry slam. What was I thinking?”_

_“Lots of people see the thousand dollar shoes and go, ‘I’ll bet that guy is as sophisticated as he is devilishly handsome.’ It’s a rookie mistake. If they hang around long enough they eventually see I’m a troglodyte with an expensive haircut.”_

_Steve shook his head. Only Tony could know as much as he did about art and architecture and robotics and science and everything else and still consider himself “unsophisticated.”_

_“Well, if you’re done banging rocks together over there, let’s go find the history books section. Maybe I can add to my collection,” said Steve._

_“Hang on a second,” said Tony, whose eyes had fallen on one of the titles in their section. He fished it out, and handed it over to Steve._

_“Pepper recommended me this guy before she got wise to my caveman ways. And she’s got way better taste than I do.”_

_“Thanks,” said Steve, tucking the book under his arm, “By the way, how’s the progress on the Halloween costume?”_

_“You have no idea how easy you had it when you didn’t have to care what chemicals in your clothes could kill you,” said Tony with an exasperated sigh. Then he added, “How’s yours going?”_

_“Oh you know, it’s coming along.”_

On the train, Steve turned over _The Essential Neruda: Selected Poems_ in his hands. It was pre-owned, so the spine had creases and a few of the pages even had highlights and notes. He opened the book to the page that had clearly been the previous owner’s favorite, and read.

_I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,_

_or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:_

_I love you as one loves certain obscure things,_

_secretly, between the shadow and the soul._

_I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries_

_the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,_

_and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose_

_from the earth lives dimly in my body._

_I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,_

_I love you directly without problems or pride:_

_I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,_

_except in this form in which I am not nor are you,_

_so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,_

_so close that your eyes close with my dreams._

Steve closed the book, put it on the empty seat next to him, leaned his head against the wall, and let himself cry. He cried for what he’d had, for what he’d wanted to have, for what he’d never have. He cried for the home he thought he’d built with Tony as one of its cornerstones. And he cried because he missed Tony so much it was hard to breathe.

Fortunately either his SEP was working really exceptionally well that day or crying on the New York City subway was a common enough occurrence that most people either didn’t notice or deliberately ignored him, because Steve was left in peace. By the time he was finished he was already in Coney Island.

Steve got off the train one stop before the end, because something about going to the end of the line alone felt painful in a way Steve didn’t feel like examining closely. He walked back into the fog he’d been living in since Halloween and didn’t realize where he was going until he noticed the familiar sound of his feet hitting wooden boards.

_“Why aren’t you talking, ma? Are you sad? Do you want some’f the ice cream?”_

_Sarah Rogers looked down at Steve and quirked a smile._

_“Thank you, Stevie, but I’m not hungry,” she said._

_It was the fourth of July and Steve was turning six. Ma had taken him to the boardwalk in Coney Island, just like she’d promised. Bucky said the boardwalk was for sissies but everyone knew that’s just because Bucky’s ma never took HIM to Coney Island. There’d be fireworks later if Steve didn’t get too tired but right now there was vanilla ice cream and sunshine and what must’ve been a million people milling between the beach and the boards. And Steve was happy as a clam with one hand in his Ma’s and the other completely covered in melting ice cream. But ma hadn’t said anything in a while and that usually didn’t happen unless she was asleep._

_“Miss Donatello says if someone’s sad you should share with them,” said Steve, proffering his ice cream cone, “Or we could play if you wanna do that.”_

_“It’s alright, sweetheart, it’s the good kind of sad.”_

_“Miss Donatello says that sad is how you feel when no one wants to play or share with you,” said Steve._

_“Your teacher’s right, but it’s also how you feel when you miss someone.”_

_“Oh,” said Steve._

_Sarah squeezed Steve’s hand as she looked toward the beach and said, “Your da and I came here a few times. And seeing this place reminds me of him. That’s why I’m a little sad.”_

_“When’s the fireworks?”_

_Sarah snorted and shook her head. “Not till much later. And if you don’t hurry up and eat that ice cream there’ll be more on your shirt than in your belly.”_

Steve’s thoughts were interrupted by the ring of his cell phone.

“Where the _hell_ have you been, Rogers?” said Director Fury.

“On the subway.”

“On the sub-- Cap, what the fuck did I say was rule number one if you all were going to be living in New York?”

“Nothing good ever happens on the subway,” Steve recited dully.

“That’s fucking right, and maybe if you weren’t underground you wouldn’t’ve missed my last two calls. The GPS on your phone says you’re on the boardwalk in Coney Island. I need you to go to the aquarium.”

Steve felt his heart sink. He knew it was a coincidence, but one item on the list today had been hard enough. Two would be torture.

“Does it have to be me?”

“ _Yes_ it has to be you, Rogers. One of the suspected Hydra agents we’re tailing walked into the main building 15 minutes ago with a briefcase and walked out without it. Infrared says the building’s empty, intelligence says it’s probably not a bomb, you’re closest, and I want that damn briefcase.”

“I’m on my way,” said Steve as he set off in the direction of the aquarium.

Ten minutes later he was trapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Strand is probably the most famous book store in New York City, and it absolutely is worth the trip. Something about that ludicrous a number of books just puts happy chemicals in your brain if you like to read, and if you're still with this fanfic 30k+ words in, you probably like to read :)
> 
> This poem is "One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII." You can find the full citation here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/49236/one-hundred-love-sonnets-xvii
> 
> Crying on the subway is practically a rite of passage when you live in New York City, so Steve being ignored as he became a proper 21st century New Yorker is absolutely expected.
> 
> A few years ago I did some de-escalation training. Between sessions 1 and 2 the instructor said "Who here's already had the opportunity to use their training?" A couple hands shot up and everyone's story happened on the subway. Of course the overwhelming majority of subway rides are uneventful, and some are fun (especially when people bring dogs in bags); I don't want to discourage anyone reading this from taking the subway when they come to NYC. But Fury's probably got the right idea by discouraging the Avengers from trapping themselves in a fast-moving metal tube with predictable routes, limited means to escape, no cell phone reception, and lots of anonymous people who're grumpy and potentially intoxicated. Especially when they've got the funds and alternate means to get from point A to point B.


	22. The 11 Best Escape Rooms in New York City (Number 4 Is a Super Surprise!)

In hindsight, he should’ve been suspicious of the glitter.

Tony’s lab in lockdown made Fort Knox look like a take a penny leave a penny tray, and he was glad the team stopped their frankly adorable attempts at getting in after day 2, but they didn’t stop trying with the dumbwaiter. Nothing nefarious - people couldn’t get in, and neither could anything with any kind of capacity for sabotage, but every time Tony ordered food they’d send up notes with it. Tony never read them, of course, except when his liquor cabinet ran out and the new liquor he ordered came up the dumbwaiter as empty bottles with a sticky note that said, “Got to open the door for more.”

Whatever, Tony could grieve sober. It’d hurt worse, but he could do it. What he couldn’t do is go back out there to a world where Steve was hurting because he thought Tony didn’t love him. Where Steve looked at Tony with that pained longing he’d seen as the elevator doors closed. It was already haunting his dreams, he couldn’t let it haunt his waking moments too. He wasn’t strong enough. He’d break. And Tony couldn’t break. He wouldn’t.

At least if he was sober he could throw himself into his work. So he was hard at work on a new helmet design because why the fuck not, nothing had any meaning anymore, when he heard the dumbwaiter ding and he saw it. Propped against the Burger King bag was a sparkly blue birthday party invitation from Pepper’s niece, Olivia Potts.

He and Olivia had unwittingly forged a relationship somewhere between crazy uncle/weirdo niece and mentor/mentee back when he and Pepper were dating, starting when Tony showed up to Olivia’s family birthday party with a raspberry pi as a gift. Tony didn’t see what the big deal was at the time - obviously anyone who makes a blog for their Barbies is going to be interested in Barbies _and_ coding, but apparently her family had picked up on the one interest and completely missed the other, and Olivia was thrilled to have someone she could talk to who knew what recursion was. Since then, whenever Pepper was in town for more than a few days, he’d take the whole family out to lunch somewhere mostly so he and Olivia could talk shop about whatever they were working on (Olivia had a real gift for coming up with stuff for code to do that was completely useless and _cool as hell_ , which was Tony’s favorite kind of project when he was her age). He’d also made a habit of going to her family birthday party with Pepper every year with whatever tech he thought would feed her interest. And even though Tony hadn’t blinked at missing board meetings, charity events, and Shield briefings while he was nursing his broken heart up in the lab, something about missing Olivia’s birthday party just felt like a bridge too far.

Tony turned on his phone long enough to text Pepper, “Low blow.”

Within seconds she texted back, “Party’s in 2 hours. I’ll tell her your gift is in the mail. Take a shower, and don’t you dare come if you’re not sober.”

Of course it wasn’t until he was actually inside the aquarium two hours later that he realized a sparkly blue mermaid invitation to an aquarium after hours birthday party was something for your _school friends_ , not your _family_. Also Olivia’s birthday was in January. But it was the glitter he was kicking himself for missing.

And of course as soon as he realized that, the fact that the aquarium was number 14 on Steve’s list suddenly seemed a lot less like coincidence but before he could go... there he was. Steve was standing there, bathed in the cool, blue light of the water, looking like he’d been through hell. And it was enough to stop Tony in his tracks because _fuck_ , all he wanted to do was rush up to him and hold him and tell him he was sorry, so sorry.

But he couldn’t. It’d make it all so much harder, in the end.

Either an eternity or a second passed like that, with Tony looking at Steve and Steve looking at Tony. Then Tony’s phone rang with a caller from an unknown number. And while most of the tracks in Tony’s head had concluded Pepper and the team were behind this, the second possibility, that something a bit more sinister had successfully lured two unarmed Avengers into an enclosed space, was now front and center in Tony’s mind. Steve must’ve realized the same thing, because he immediately went into a combat stance and said, “Put it on speaker.”

“I cannot begin to express how much I resent having to get involved in this,” said Director Fury, and Tony felt relief wash through him ( _Maybe I should unblock Fury on my phone_ , he thought briefly), although it was immediately followed by the old mix of anxiety and pain and longing at seeing Steve.

“Director Fury--” started Steve, who had also gotten out of his defensive stance.

“ _Can it_ , Rogers. Now I have wasted too much of my time on this high school bullshit already, and since this was Colonel Rhodes’s plan, I am going to let him take it from here.”

Over the same call, Rhodey said, “Thank you director-- oh, he hung up.”

“Rhodey, I hope your affairs are in order,” said Tony.

“Shut up for a minute, Tony. Also, I’ve also got Pepper and the rest of the Avengers on the line. Say hello everyone,” said Rhodey.

A cacophony of “Hey guys!” followed.

“You should be inside the aquarium now, and thanks to a generous security upgrade from Stark Industries - thank you Pepper - the doors are now locked with adamantium bolts.”

“If you hurt the fish trying to get out I will personally Hulk out on both of you,” added Bruce, “I wrote my second dissertation on some of those fish.”

“Yes, Bruce is very worried about the fish. Anyway, you’ve now got the afternoon all to yourselves. You can talk it out, fight it out, fuck it out, whatever you have to do. But please, for the love of God, work this bullshit out.”

“The doors will unlock automatically in three hours,” said Pepper, “And Nat and Clint have already thought of every escape route you’re thinking of, Tony, so don’t bother.”

“We were _very_ thorough,” said Nat.

“And that’s pretty much it. Have fun talking about your feelings, boys!” said Pepper.

And after another disjointed round of “Bye!” the line went dead.

“Well… fuck,” said Tony for lack of anything better to say.

Steve shrugged, “It’s only three hours.”

“I guess,” said Tony, who then looked around and said, “Alright, I’ll park my butt by the octopus, and you can--”

“Tony, this might be the last time we spend time together for a while,” said Steve, as he walked over to look at one of the tropical fish displays, “Let’s be adults and look at the damn fish.”

So they did. They wandered the displays in silence for a bit, and silence never _did_ sit well with Tony, so after not very long he said, “How are you?”

Steve gave a bitter, almost hysterical chuckle, and it was so grating to Tony’s ears that he knew he’d never forget it as long as he lived.

“Not great, Tony,” said Steve.

“Yeah, well, give it time,” said Tony.

“Time. Yeah,” said Steve, as they passed a “fish of the antarctic” tank, “Hey, Stark Industries doesn’t have any planes headed for the arctic do they? I’ll take the antarctic too, I’m not picky.”

“Not funny, Steve,” said Tony.

“Well, that’s the only way I can think of right now to stop loving you, Tony,” said Steve.

Tony went quiet. Because hearing the L-bomb fall so casually and so despairingly from Steve’s lips was a brand new gouge in Tony’s heart, and he needed a second to recover from it. Steve noticed though, and said, “Did you really not think I was in love with you?”

“You-- don’t be stupid, you’ve got a crush,” said Tony quickly.

Steve shook his head. “This stopped being a crush a long time ago, Tony. I love you. I’m _in love_ with you. And I know you don’t love me, but it’s going to take a lot more than time to get me past this.”

Tony turned his face away from Steve. Every single thing about this was hell. The second they got out of this mess Tony was kicking the Avengers and everything there was to do with them out of the tower, because they were responsible for this, and there was nothing he had ever experienced worse than Steve saying out loud and with complete certainty that he was miserable because Tony didn’t love him.

“Tony, look at me,” said Steve. Tony looked at Steve’s feet, because that was the best he could manage right now. But it was useless, because seconds later, Steve’s hand was on his chin, forcing their eyes to meet.

“You don’t love me back, Tony,” said Steve, as if he was asking for confirmation. And Christ, Tony couldn’t _take_ it.

“Stop saying that,” said Tony.

“Why?” said Steve.

Tony took a step away to be out of Steve’s reach.

“Why, Tony?” Steve repeated.

“Because it’s _ridiculous_ ,” said Tony.

And Tony swore internally, because the damned filter on his mouth was supposed to catch things like that. But Steve always did have a way of getting Tony to talk around his filter.

“You love me too,” said Steve, and the bitterness had been replaced with hope, and somehow that was so much worse. But Steve knew Tony too well by now for Tony to try denying it.

“Of course I love you, Steve. I love you so much I can barely stand it. But it _doesn’t matter_ ,” said Tony insistently.

“How can you say that? Of course it matters!” said Steve.

“Fine, have it your way,” said Tony with a dismissive wave as he turned to walk away. But Steve was in front of him in under a second. Damn that serum.

“Tony, what is all of this about? Why do you think it doesn’t matter that we’re in love with each other?”

“Because it doesn’t change the fact that we’re never getting together, Steve.”

“Why _not_ ? Why _can’t_ we be together, Tony?”

“Because we can’t!”

“Oh no. No, I let that bullshit pass on Halloween and I am _not_ making that mistake twice, so you need to come up with something better than that, Tony.”

Alright, Steve wanted a fight? Tony could give him a fight. He reached back in his mind and found the tentpoles that had been holding up his justification for staying away from Steve and brandished them like lances against an onslaught.

“You know like ten people, Steve--”

“I’m not going to have a meet-and-greet with all seven billion people on earth when the one I want is right in front of me,” said Steve.

Had that reason always been so pathetic?

“The team--” started Tony.

“--literally lured us here for this, so I’m pretty sure they’re on board,” said Steve.

There went his other reason. And if there had been any others, Tony couldn’t remember them. Whatever, he could think of new ones. He just needed time.

“You don’t know, do you?” said Steve.

“We’re done here,” said Tony as he turned again, and if he had to break all the glass in the damn aquarium to get out he would do it, Hulk or no Hulk. But Steve was following behind him.

“We are finishing this conversation, Tony,” said Steve, “I will wait as long as it takes for you to find your answer to why you won’t let me love you, but I _will_ get an answer so you might as well start looking for it now.”

So Tony dug deep for another reason, and found what his reasons had been protecting.

“I can’t have you hate me again!” Tony shouted in Steve’s face.

Steve said nothing, and Tony could never abide a silence.

“How the hell could I possibly keep a guy like you? You’re so… and I’m… you already know. Which means as soon as we get together, the clock starts ticking down until the day you can’t stand me, and when that day comes it’s going to _break_ me, Steve,” said Tony, his voice breaking already.

Then Steve’s hand was on Tony’s arm and his other hand was on the side of Tony’s face, guiding Tony to look in his eyes.

“I could never hate you, Tony,” said Steve earnestly.

“You already did. You did for a long time, and it fucking hurt, because I don’t think I’ve ever _not_ been in love with you.”

Then Steve was pulling him into an embrace, and Tony had nothing left in him to fight it. All he could do was let Steve hold him, and wish things were different. Wish that this could last. But it couldn’t. The sky was blue, water was wet, and if they ever got together then one day Steve would look at Tony and there’d be contempt in his eyes again. And if the thought of it hurt this much, actually living it might just kill him.

“Tony, listen to me,” said Steve, “I’m sorry. The way we were, I will regret that for the rest of my life. But that was before I _knew_ you, Tony. And I can’t promise we’ll be together forever but I can promise you that now that I _know_ you, I could never, ever hate you.”

And then both of Steve’s hands were on the sides of Tony’s face, and Steve was kissing him. But it wasn’t just a kiss; it was a promise. And Tony knew Steve too well now to doubt a promise he sealed with a kiss.

Every emotion Tony had been holding back from the moment he’d met Steve surfaced at once, and before he was even conscious of it he wasn’t just kissing back, he was pinning Steve against the wall with his body. It was like he was finally where he’d always been meant to be. Like a wave that had traveled the entire ocean was finally crashing on the shore. But Tony just kept crashing, and so did Steve. There was just so _much_ but it wasn’t _enough_.

Steve’s hand stopped Tony’s just as Tony was hiking up Steve’s shirt. Tony looked into Steve’s eyes and saw they were wild with the same want Tony was feeling. But Steve swallowed, and practically croaked, “Tower. We need to get back to the tower.”

“Steve,” said Tony pointedly and a bit breathlessly, “We have two and a half hours till those doors unlock and even if we didn’t, there is no fucking _way_ we’re making it back to the tower.”

“I-- not here, Tony.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never made love in an _aquarium_ before,” Tony purred as he closed in on Steve’s neck and started to kiss under that fucking fantastic jaw, and the groan it elicited from Steve was so delicious Tony thought he might get them both off off just sucking on Steve’s neck. Between kisses Tony said, “I mean, it’s been a while for me, but--”

Steve’s breathing was hard and his voice was wrecked, but he managed to get out, “Do you really want to take my virginity in the New York Aquarium?”

Tony stopped and pulled back to look Steve full in the face. There was longing there, but also nerves, and-- holy fuck. Steve had-- Tony had just assumed.

“Steve, are you sure you--”

Steve answered with a kiss so intense Tony felt his knees buckle. But Steve was there to hold him up, practically growling as he pressed his tongue into Tony’s mouth and his erection into Tony’s thigh and the raw fucking _lust_ of it scorched the air in Tony’s lungs.

“ _Fuck_ , Steve,” said Tony when Steve finally pulled back, “I-- alright. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“How are--”

“I’m an engineering genius, you’re a tactical mastermind, and we can’t have sex until we escape a locked room,” said Tony, who’d already expanded the regular 8 tracks of his brain to 100 to process routes of escape (well, 50 of them were dedicated to what he was going to do to Steve as soon as they got back to the tower, but the other 50 were more than up to the task), “Given those variables, would _you_ bet on the room?”

Steve grinned wickedly, and replied, “Not for a second.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The New York Aquarium still has large chunks of itself under construction since it was hit pretty badly by hurricane Sandy (back in 2013 very little except the main building was open), but if you like aquariums it's a nice day out. Plus you can walk the board walk after and make a Coney Island day trip of it. Personally I recommend stopping by Rita's Water Ice and getting a gelati while you're there.
> 
> No fish were harmed in Tony and Steve's escape.


	23. 15 New Year's Resolutions from Power Couple Tony Stark and Steve Rogers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna start this by saying Tony and Steve have the right idea in this chapter - never go to Times Square for New Years Eve. It's cold, the portapotties are gross, there's nothing to do but stand there for hours, then after midnight it takes forever to leave.
> 
> Now, without further ado, the thrilling conclusion.

“What time is it?” said Steve.

Tony turned his head but it took a second for his brain to register what the clock on the bedside table was telling him through the haze of endorphins.

“12:04,” said Tony.

Steve sat up in bed to look at the clock himself.

“Any chance it’s fast?” he asked.

“I dunno, let’s go look,” said Tony.

Steve slipped on his pajama bottoms and Tony put on a robe, and they opened the curtains of their hotel room and looked out over Times Square. There was confetti in the air, the ball was at the bottom of the pole, and “2014” was lit up brightly at the top of the square.

“Um… oops,” said Tony.

“I can’t believe we missed it,” Steve chuckled.

“I mean, did we?” said Tony.

“The list said kiss someone you love at midnight on New Years Eve,” said Steve, “And we were _not_ kissing.”

“Oh come on, that’s a _technicality_ ,” said Tony.

Steve got behind Tony, wrapped his arms around his waist, and kissed his temple.

“Sorry, hon. We’ll just have to try again next year,” said Steve with a grin.

Tony leaned back into Steve.

“ _Fine._ But next year we’re throwing a party. In hindsight we probably set ourselves up for failure when we got a hotel room,” said Tony.

“Yeah, probably,” said Steve.

Tony turned around in Steve’s arms and put his own arms up behind Steve’s neck, and _God_ , Steve would never get tired of that sensation.

“Until next year, babe,” said Tony.

“Until next year,” replied Steve, and he leaned in to kiss Tony sweetly.

364 days, 23 hours and 52 minutes later, Steve was leading Tony by the hand through a New Years Eve party that took up three whole floors of a building overlooking Times Square.

“Where are you taking me, Rogers?” said Tony.

“Hang on, we’re almost there,” said Steve.

They arrived at a side room that had a “Do not enter, under construction” sign in front of it. Steve pushed it aside and opened the door.

“Where is this bad boy streak coming from? I mean it’s pretty hot so I’m not complaining, but you don’t--” said Tony.

“It’s not under construction, look,” said Steve.

They walked into the dark room, which was only lit by a floor to ceiling window facing Times Square.

“Did you--”

“I called the venue and asked them to rope off this room,” said Steve, “For um… privacy.”

Tony smirked, then said, “Well, been a while since we’ve snuck out of a party to have sex, I guess we’re due.”

“With windows this big and no curtains? And an entire crowd of people who could take a creepshot of us? Pepper would kill me.”

“Pepper would kill _me_. You’ve always been her favorite. Anyway, why’re we here then?”

“Um… c’mere, I want to show you something.”

They walked over to the window to look over the square. 2 minutes left of 2014, and _man_ what a year it had been. The collapse of Shield, finding out Bucky was alive only to lose him again, adding Sam to the Avengers, and Tony holding Steve’s hand when he came out publicly. They’d been through all of it, and it had only strengthened the home in his heart Steve had built with Tony. It was like having an anchor when before he’d had to go where the waves took him. Like he was lit with a candle on the inside when before he’d been reaching in the dark. Like all the glass panes that used to stand between him and the world were gone, and he was finally _alive_.

“Well, I’m no detective,” said Tony, “but the thing you want to show me looks like Times Square.”

Steve snorted, then said, “They teach you that at MIT?”

“Nah, I learned that last year when I fucked my boyfriend through the ball drop when we were supposed to kiss.”

Steve rolled his eyes, then said, “I um… I wanted to come clean about something, Tony. I lied to you.”

“Yeah, I knew you hated caviar,” said Tony.

“No, it’s-- ok, yes but that’s not--” Steve took a steadying breath, turned to face Tony and said, “Remember at the aquarium when I said I couldn’t promise you we would be together forever? Well,” he reached into his jacket and pulled out the little square box that had been burning a hole in his pocket all night, “It turns out I can.”

“ _Steven_ ,” said Tony.

Steve opened the box and got down on one knee.

“Anthony Edward Stark--”

“Yes, you idiot, of course I’ll marry you. Now get back up here so we don’t miss the count down _again_.”

Steve laughed, got back up, and kissed Tony just as the countdown finished. Outside the room at the party there was cheering, and the band started playing auld lang syne.

“I love you,” said Steve.

“I love you too,” said Tony, then turned so the two of them could look out the window, “I guess we finally finished that list, huh?”

“Guess we did,” said Steve.

“Hell of a place to finish it from where we were when we started.”

“We should send the author a thank you note.”

“Oh she’s already gotten a job at Stark Industries _and_ a car for her part in this. A note would be overkill.”

“You included a note with the check you sent to Doug and Colleen for their wedding.”

“Let’s not talk about our exes tonight, honeycake, it’ll spoil the moment. Well, you already did a little. I’m very mad at you right now.”

“Oh?”

“I had _plans_ , ok? It was gonna be romantic as _shit_ when I proposed to you.”

“Y’know, I’ve read the LGBT handbook. No rule says you can’t propose twice.”

“Wow, you got a handbook? All I got was a hot fiance,” and he pinched Steve’s butt to underscore the point.

“Lucky you,” said Steve. Then he added, “Can I ask what your plans were, or will that ruin the surprise?”

“It’s not a surprise anymore now, is it?” said Tony. Then he reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out a piece of paper folded into quarters.

“I was going to ask you tonight if you wanted to make a project of this for 2015,” said Tony, as he unfolded the paper and handed it over to Steve. Steve took it and read.

15 THINGS TO DO WITH YOUR HOT BOYFRIEND IN NYC THAT ARE ALL 70+ YEARS OLD

  1. Get a pastrami sandwich at Katz’s Deli.
  2. Ride the Staten Island Ferry.
  3. Smell the roses at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.
  4. Listen to the sea lions bark at the Bronx Zoo.
  5. Draw something naked at the Met.
  6. Walk the Brooklyn Bridge.
  7. Have a picnic in Central Park.
  8. Take a stroll down Wall Street and take a selfie in front of the bull’s balls.
  9. Find a billionaire to set you up with a private tour of Ellis Island.
  10. Walk the boardwalk in Coney Island (and if you’re getting tired of old things, check out the mermaid parade).
  11. Eat a Nathan’s Famous hot dog or twelve.
  12. Have a fancy steak dinner with aforementioned hot boyfriend at Peter Luger Steakhouse.
  13. Check out the old Brooklyn neighborhood and try not to get depressed at the number of Starbucks.
  14. See an old Broadway show. We (and by ‘we’ I mean me, Tony, your hot boyfriend) recommend Anything Goes! It’s de-lovely!



“That’s a pretty good list, hon,” said Steve. Then he paused as though he were thinking and said, “I think I might be able to pencil a few of these in.”

“Have your people call my people,” said Tony.

“Add it to the meetings calendar,” said Steve. Then he asked, “Where were you gonna propose?”

“The Botanical Gardens,” said Tony.

“Why there?”

“Ah… I was going to take you to the orchid room. So I could introduce you to mom first.”

Steve squeezed Tony around the shoulder, and said, “I’d like that. And look, my ma’s here too, at number 6. It’s about time I introduced you two,” he said.

Tony looked, and a grin split his face. “She liked the geometry of it, didn’t she?”

“She did,” said Steve.

“Alright, Mother’s Day this year, we’ll visit them both,” said Tony, “And now you know what my plans were I’m not telling you which of these I’m proposing at. Got to keep you on your toes. Also because I really doubt I can wait till Mother’s Day. The only reason I haven’t proposed already is because Pepper’s got your ring in a safe somewhere to stop me from doing it.”

“How long has that been there?” said Steve.

“Since the aquarium,” said Tony.

And Steve didn’t know how to respond to that except to lean over and kiss him. Then a thought struck him, and he said, “Please tell me you weren’t ring shopping on your phone when you said you were hacking the locks to get us out.”

“Right after the aquarium,” said Tony.

“When we were rappelling down the roof with firehoses or when you were breaking the land speed record driving us back to the tower?”

“Right after right after the aquarium.”

“I remember us being a little busy then.”

“When we took a break and I went out to get bagels, I may have called my jeweler and told him to start looking for a ring fit for Tony Stark’s husband, so I’m sticking with ‘right after right after the aquarium,’” said Tony.

“Wow, you really don’t like to wait.”

“Have you met me?”

“Hey, something I’ve been meaning to ask you about that day,” said Steve, “Where was your driver?”

“What?” said Tony.

“You always use a driver to get where you’re going, but that day you drove yourself to the aquarium. And we had to spend the whole time driving back to the tower clinging to the seats trying not to jump on each other at every red light. But we wouldn’t have had to do that if your driver was there, so where was he?”

Tony got a puzzled look on his face, and the next second he was absolutely roaring with laughter.

“Oh man,” said Steve, who was laughing himself a bit now, “I can’t wait to hear the joke I just told in the lines of the conversation we just skipped.”

“ _Steve,_ ” Tony wheezed, “I _don’t_ use a driver normally.”

“What are you talking about? You always use a driver,” said Steve.

“No I don’t!” said Tony, “I just don’t drive with you! Do you think all those cars are for decoration? The only times I use a driver are if I’m socializing with a group of friends - like the Avengers - if I’m having a business meeting, or… or if I’m on a date!”

“What?” said Steve incredulously.

“Because that way you can go back to the car and play grab ass while... oh my God, I have been kicking myself for so long that I didn’t figure out we were dating all that year until Bruce said it, but my subconscious had it figured out from the fucking Guggenheim!”

And then Steve was laughing with him.

“Unbelievable,” Tony sighed, then he pointed to his ring. “Do you want this back? You’re supposed to be marrying some kind of genius and clearly I am not one.”

Steve reached for Tony’s left hand, made like he was considering taking it back, then kissed the ring on Tony’s finger and said, “I think I can make due with an oblivious idiot.”

“Good, because that’s what you’re getting,” said Tony, “By the way, since you beat me to the proposal, you’ve unlocked number 15 on the list I just gave you.

“There is no number 15,” said Steve.

“Ohoho, who’s the oblivious idiot now? It says it right in the title,” said Tony, as he reached into his pocket and took out his keys. Then he took the list from Steve, and shone the blacklight on his keychain at the paper.

Number 15 appeared in fluorescent ink, and said, “Have sex with your hot new fiance.”

Steve laughed, then said, “But he’s not 70+ years old. That shouldn’t be on this list.”

“If Buzzfeed can screw up one of theirs, I can screw one of mine,” said Tony, “Now c’mon, let’s get out of here.”

“Pretty sure once we leave this room we’re about to get mobbed by all our friends wishing us congratulations, Tony.”

“Good point. Any fire hoses in here?”

“ _Tony_ ”

“ _Fine_. Let’s go bask in the enthusiasm of the people that love us or whatever.”

Steve kissed Tony’s temple, and added, “Don’t worry, we’ll get to number 15 when we get home.”

“We don’t have to wait _that_ long,” said Tony as they walked back toward the party, “I _did_ bring a driver tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! Thank you all for reading and for the very kind comments. And to the folks looking for things to do in NYC in the after times - Tony's list is also full of excellent suggestions.
> 
> To the folks who don't want to see it end, this series now has a part 2 and 3. Part 2 is a team bonding fic where everyone shares their embarrassing sex stories and you get more details about the sock and ice cream truck incidents. Part 3 is a short Stony fic of these two having a grown up conversation with each other. Both are spoiler-free standalones too, so you can read or not read either or both :)
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed the fic!


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